Dragon Slayer
by Const
Summary: War between Rabona and the mainland is inevitable. The results are less certain, hinging on the actions of a berserker on the edge of awakening, a colorhead, and a comrade-killer.
1. Predation

Mild language, moderate gore, yuri (non-explicit).

* * *

In darkness, even the dim light of golden eyes was radiant. Bloody entrails slithered in that glow, writhing along with their owner, who was screaming. A predator's mouth was buried in the warmth of his guts, chomping, gnawing. Blood gushed between the predator's teeth, tasting of rot. Slowly, the victim's screams ebbed into sobs, followed by silence.

"Dead already?" The predator asked. "Good thing I brought dessert then."

The second victim whimpered as the golden eyes turned toward him. He wriggled to get away, but his legs had been ripped off at the knees, so all he could do was drag himself back on his broken hands. The predator rose, feeling blood dribble from her chin to patter against the floor. She leaned over her second victim, smiling.

"Just kidding. I don't have a very large appetite, so you can go."

She folded her arms, waiting as he crawled across the floor. When he reached the stairs, she followed him step by step and opened the door for him at the top.

The white sun struck predator and prey alike. The prey was hulking, larger than a man, with skin the shade of vomit and eyes the color of phlegm. His purple blood stained the white of his tormentor's uniform. Her eyes faded from gold to silver as she scanned the cluster of villagers around her, her claws and fangs transforming into more human features.

"It's still alive!" A man said. "The yoma, she hasn't finished it yet!"

The predator stretched. "I am finished with it actually. I thought I'd leave the rest to you, though at this point he might bleed out even if you don't kill him."

The villagers muttered fearfully, like a clump of frightened hens. The girl scowled. Why did the Organization even bother saving these weaklings? She glared at them, and they cowered back.

"Oh come on. Do you need me to hold him still for you?" She lifted the yoma by the wrists. "There. Now get to work."

The yoma begged for his life, which seemed to help the humans get the idea. One by one, their loathing for yoma overcame their fear, and they stepped forward. They were brutal enough once they got into it. The butcher's cleavers and meat hooks came in handy, and a little boy managed to crush a bone or two using his mother's cookpot.

The predator smiled. Repugnant though they were, humans could give the yoma a slower death than she ever could, and she laughed to think what humiliation the yoma must feel to be killed by humans.

When the monster finally died, the humans hung its mangled corpse from the steeple of their church. Purple oozed from the monster's wounds and crept down the stone building, pooling under the doors. A human in robes approached the predator haltingly, clutching a bag of coins. He did not dare to meet her eyes.

"We have gathered what little we have for your fee. It is four hundred rods. If that is too little, please, do not be angry. It was a poor harvest."

She hefted the bag. _There is no need to pay_ , she was supposed to say. _Continue to give tithes to Rabona, and the warriors will protect you._ She shook the bag so it jingled.

"Not enough," she said.

"Please," he said. "We will send you twice as much next harvest. If you take any more, we will go hungry."

"That wouldn't be a problem if you humans didn't eat like pigs." She shoved the bag into his hands. "More."

He returned with the bag twice as heavy. She knew he hated her by now, but he must have feared her more, because he bowed his head and thanked her. She shoved past him, sneering at his grovelling, and left town.

She came across a crevasse a few miles away, and tossed the money over the edge before continuing on. As the light dimmed to orange at the day's end, she found a man in black resting on a fallen log by the roadside. His face sagged with age, his lips wrinkled in a permanent frown, and at the end of one brow puckered a gnarled scar. The shadows of dead winter branches deepened the black of his cloak.

"Sabrina," he said.

She nodded.

"I hope you left this town intact," he said.

"I didn't kill anyone this time, if that's what you're asking," Sabrina said.

"That's not what I asked."

"What good do humans do for us?" Sabrina asked. "They scorn us as monsters, then whine for us to save them as soon as yoma show up. They'd burn us for witches if they had the power. So what if I hurt them?"

He sighed. "What am I to do with you? You've ruined another suit with yoma blood as well. Please take more care of your equipment."

"I'll think about it. Do you have a new sword for me?"

"I don't. Swords are scarce these days. The Organization would prefer that you recover your old sword instead."

"If it's just yoma, I can do without."

"Yes, but because of your rank and fighting style, it's better to use you against awakened beings. In that kind of fight, you wouldn't stand a chance barehanded."

Sabrina scowled. She'd been developing techniques for just such a fight, but if this man thought she would lose, then she would lose. When it came to combat analysis, Sabrina's handler was foremost among the Organization's men.

"Return to Alfons," he said. "If you search long enough, I'm sure your sword will turn up."

"Fine," she said. "I wanted to go there anyway. It hurts my pride as a warrior to have my sword in the hands of yoma."

"Once you find it, come to Rabona. I'll be waiting for you at headquarters there. There's an. . . obstacle which will take the Organization's full force to defeat. Until then, goodbye Sabrina."

"Goodbye, Raki."


	2. Wise Yoma

Sabrina ran leaning forward, low against the snow, her breath icy in her lungs. Trails of frost streamed from her mouth to join the predawn mists in the woods around her. She hoped the yoma didn't think themselves clever for having her unarmored and on the run. Sneaking up wouldn't have worked on most warriors. In fact, it would only work on Sabrina.

Sabrina hadn't met many fellow warriors since her training, but she was certain she was the worst at sensing yoki. Other warriors relaxed when they rested in the wilderness, knowing that they'd sense approaching threats; Sabrina slept with one eye open, and only in dense underbrush or on shaly slopes - terrain that would make noise when crossed. Things were easier in Alfons, where snow made every surface hard to walk in silence, and yet it was here in the high mountains of the north where, just minutes ago, she'd jerked awake to find dozens of yellow eyes glaring at her. If they'd made it two or three more steps, they could've taken her head while she slept.

Sabrina glanced back as she ran, and saw shadows leaping through the mist, weaving between winter skeletons of saplings. The terrain here was almost good enough to turn and fight, but full grown trees would work better with her special technique. She peered through the gloom ahead, looking for the silhouettes of bigger trees. Instead, the land ended in a cliff. She leaned against her momentum, plunging both hands through the snow for traction. On the brink, she came to a stop. Plumes of snow flew over the cliff, falling until they were lost in the mists.

 _So much for better terrain._

The monsters loomed closer. Twenty or thirty, perhaps more lurking in the mists behind. They were larger than normal yoma, especially the foremost, whose muscular abdomen was level with Sabrina's head. The titan dragged a claymore in his left hand, letting its edge scrape the ground as he prowled toward Sabrina.

"Snow colored hair," he growled, "gathered into a tail that falls to her knees, and slitted pupils even when her yoki lies dormant. Is this the claymore you spoke of, Raurek?"

One of the smaller yoma, presumably Raurek, drew a claymore from his back. The gold of his eyes was clouded, as if a few drops of milk had swirled into his irises. He gazed at nothing.

"Make her show her tongue, and tell me what you see," Raurek said.

The titan glowered at Sabrina, who shrugged. She didn't see what harm could come of it, and she was curious about what the yoma were after. She let her tongue spill out, falling well below her chin, its narrow tip flexing forward and back, tasting the chill air.

"She has the tongue of a yoma," the titan said.

Raurek clenched his jaw. "Then there's no mistake."

He raised his claymore and charged.

Sabrina scooped a small boulder out of the snow and hurled it at Raurek's head. Not waiting to see if it hit, she dashed to the nearest sapling, tearing it from the earth. The sound of metal crashing against stone rang out, and the quick thump of footsteps. With two sharp jerks, she snapped the sapling twice over her knee, making a staff the length of a claymore. She spun and saw Raurek in mid swing, his sword almost at her ear. She ducked, thrusting at his throat, but he danced aside, slashing, and Sabrina felt the bite of metal across her arm. Instantly she leapt back and brought her branch into guard position only to realise that the staff had shortened to the length of an arm. Somehow, between dodging Sabrina's attack and slicing her arm, Raurek had cut her weapon in half. The blind monster was smiling now, swinging his sword through the snow, sending white plumes over the cliff.

"Impossible," Sabrina hissed.

"Are you ashamed?" The titanic yoma asked from the sidelines. "For a claymore to die to a mere yoma… You are mortified, are you not?"

Raurek attacked furiously, his swordsmanship breathtaking. Sabrina unleashed yoki - felt heat race through her veins from her scalp to the soles of her feet, saw the blood flying from her wound shade from red to maroon as her arm blurred with speed, but the yoma seemed to get better as she sped up. He didn't get faster, but reacted earlier and more precisely, driving her back toward the cliff.

"You needn't be ashamed, claymore," the titan said. "Our kind seems weak only because most of us are too arrogant to train. Indeed, if there is one weakness common to all creatures of yoki, it is arrogance. Among all the yoma, claymore, and awakened, every one carried the flaw."

Sabrina felt cold metal stick into her guts. Her body automatically twisted away, legs throwing her backward to minimise the wound. She landed on her back, rolled, and bounded to her feet, leaving maroon stains in the snow where she'd fallen. Raurek paused to lick her blood from his blade, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Sabrina understood why - the air was sour with the reek of yoma blood.

"What the hell kind of yoma _are_ you?" She asked.

The titan growled. "We have no cause to answer that."

Raurek laughed, his milky eyes bright. "It's fine Ordrun," he said. "I've measured her skill completely. She and I both know she won't leave here alive, so tell her whatever you like. I want her to know why I'm going to kill her."

Ordrun scowled at the smaller yoma. "Are you certain? She has unleashed only a tenth part of her yoki."

"I would stake my life on it," Raurek said. "Releasing yoki won't help her against me. Even if she were to awaken, the difference between us is too big."

"And what of escape?" Ordrun pressed.

"She could outrun you perhaps. If she released all her yoki, she might even outpace me for a league, but she would reach her limit long before she found help. Really, there's no way for her to survive."

"Arrogance," Said Ordrun.

"Indulge me. It's not every day I take revenge on a claymore."

"Be it upon your head if she lives."

"Be it upon my head."

Silently, Sabrina agreed with Raurek's assessment of her chances. Even her special technique wouldn't be enough. She needed more. She needed calculation - an understanding of Raurek's power. She'd thought of several leads. First and most obvious, his blindness and however he was working around it. Second, his comment that unleashing yoki would not help her, which matched her observation that he got better as she released more power. Third, she guessed Raurek was the strongest of them, so if she could beat Raurek, she might be able to kill them all. The possibility of severing Raurek's legs and outrunning the others occurred to her, but they had spoken of her as a weakling, so she'd rather slaughter them.

"At the least," Ordrun was saying, "let us ask information in exchange."

"Fine," Raurek said.

Raurek rounded on Sabrina. "We're going to trade questions before I kill you. You will agree to this because it will give you time to heal your gut wound. Now, I'm sure you want to know why I'm going to kill you."

"I'd rather know how a yoma got so strong," Sabrina said.

Raurek frowned. "It shouldn't be surprising. Ordrun already explained that yoma who train are rare and powerful, though claymores are faster."

Sabrina scowled "That's not _nearly_ enough to explain this level of strength."

Raurek spit. "Enough. The reason I'm going to kill you-"

"Stop," Ordrun said. "It is too long since I had word of Rabona's strength. Do not cut the questioning short because of your impatience."

"Just torture it out of her," Raurek said.

Ordrun shook his head. "As children, claymores suffer the joining of yoma and human flesh. We might inflict deep agony upon her, but she would not respond to that agony as a human would. In the worst case, she might awaken, and for all your haughty confidence that you could destroy her true form, it is never wise to assume you know the nature of an awakened being before its birth. No, I will answer the question if the claymore swears to answer in turn.

"Deal," Sabrina said.

Ordrun crouched, bringing his face closer to Sabrina's level. The sun had begun to rise as they spoke, and the giant yoma cast a long black shadow into what remained of the mist.

"In truth," Ordrun said, "Raurek defeats you because he is more experienced by many years."

"That's not much of an answer," Sabrina said.

"Yet it is the true answer. To be precise, his experience surpasses yours by one hundred sixty years."

"Yeah right," she said. And yet, she had felt it in Raurek's bladework. A difference not of speed or strength but skill, so massive that it would take years to overcome. "No, that's bullshit. Miria's purge was less than a century ago. No yoma survived it."

Raurek sneered. "Typical claymore arrogance. You suppress your auras all the time. What makes you think we can't do the same?"

"Huh," Sabrina said, not at Raurek, but at her own mind, which had just figured out Raurek's power. Experience was part of it, yes, but the central clue was that yoma could learn yoki techniques. Taking that into account, it became obvious - the way he could see her through blind eyes, how he seemed to dodge before she attacked, and how he got stronger as she released yoki: He was a master of aura reading. He perceived her aura, predicted her moves through yoki, and saw it all more clearly when her yoki flared. All Sabrina had to do was suppress her aura and she'd be invisible to him. She'd take his head in a single stroke.

Ordrun was explaining how they'd eaten vagrants to hide their killings during the purge, how only a few of the "wise yoma" had survived. Sabrina no longer cared. Her wounds were healed, her opponent blind. She cracked her knuckles, suppressed her aura, and charged. Raurek swung his sword - must have heard her coming. Sabrina kicked off the ground sideways to shift her attack angle, swinging to take his head.

His sword ripped through her hand, splitting her from fingers to elbow. She cried out and leapt back, but before she could get away, he seized her throat and slammed her head into the ground. Instantly, she began to spring to her feet, only to glimpse the sole of his foot. She felt the crunch of her nose breaking, the wetness of her sinuses filling with blood as he ground her against the rock beneath the snow. She unleashed her yoki and lashed out with her remaining arm, but he dodged and slid his sword into her chest, out her back, and into the ground below.

Sabrina smelled blood, tasted blood, breathed blood down her throat. Raurek crouched beside her, leaving the claymore standing in her chest.

"Do you know where yoma come from?" He asked. "It was well known once, before the knowledge was buried under rumors and lies."

Sabrina couldn't answer. The world seemed hazy, and she could barely feel the snow's chill beneath her.

"The Organization makes us. Always has. The old Organization did it for money, and while the new Organization's motives aren't clear yet, their methods are the same. They take orphan boys and grow them into violent men without self control, who will eat carelessly and die within weeks."

He took her injured hand and picked at its insides with a long claw, pulling out tendons, veins, and splinters of bone. Weakly, Sabrina shrieked.

"They weren't always so clever about choosing us. In the first few years they infected women, infants - sometimes whole families at once. Imagine that, claymore. Imagine what it was like for me, becoming a yoma, knowing that my wife and child would be the first to fall prey to my hunger. I tried with all my will to stay away from our home, yet my feet moved in spite of me. I opened my door with streaming eyes, but there, before me, was my salvation! My wife's eyes were golden, her hair white. My son crouched at her feet, eating a neighbor's guts. We embraced, and remained as much a family as we had ever been. Together, we learned how to regenerate so we would never need to change bodies. We learned to kill without drawing attention, to hide our auras from claymores. The years after the purge were our golden age. The claymores were dormant in Rabona, and the humans believed us dead. Half eaten corpses were blamed on wild beasts, and vanished townsfolk on suicide. You cannot blame us then, living in bliss as we were, for failing to notice when the claymores began to stir. The wars and rebellions of halfbreeds had nothing to do with us, we thought. If only I had been watching when the new Organization formed, we could have returned to the ways of caution and secrecy that kept us alive for so long. If only I had not left my wife and son in Pieta when I went to hunt. If only you had not come to town!"

"I remember now," Sabrina croaked.

She managed a smile. She remembered tormenting the pair of yoma for hours in the moonlit streets, their dark blood flying in the wind as horrified human eyes peered from shuttered windows. She remembered the heat of Raurek's son's muscles in her mouth as she tore them from his bones. She'd pinned the female through the chest just as Raurek had now pinned Sabrina, angling the blade past vital organs to keep the victim alive and suffering. Then, Sabrina had flayed Raurek's wife.

"So you've remembered your butchery," the yoma said. "You should know their names. I want you to keep them in your thoughts as you die; Tauna was her name, and Rugyek his."

The fury on Raurek's face faltered, melting into grief. "I'd never seen a body mutilated so cruelly as Rugyek's. I thought it was the work of an awakened being until I found Tauna with a claymore in her chest."

Sabrina grimaced. Once she'd bitten through the female's heel tendons, Sabrina had turned back to devour the male, assuming the female couldn't move. Minutes later, Sabrina had risen from the male's corpse to find her second victim gone, along with the sword.

"She was dead when I found her," Raurek said. "her last words were scratched in the snow - not words of love for me or my son, but descriptions of her murderer. That's how I know her dying wish was for revenge. And that's why, for as long as you stay alive, I'll gnaw you with my teeth and cut you with my claws. I'll mirror every wound you gave them until you've suffered as much as both of them combined."

He pulled Sabrina's ponytail, twisting her head, his other hand rising with claws extended.

"Did you forget, Raurek," Ordrun said. "The claymore promised me an answer, and I mean to hear it."

Raurek snarled. "Be quick then."

Ordrun hunched over Sabrina, silhouetted by the sun.

"Doubtless you know little of the Organization, for they have always kept their claymores in ignorance. Therefore I will ask you only of your comrades and yourself. Reveal to me the ranks and titles of the ten greatest of your kind, as well as anything you know of their abilities. Reveal to me also your own rank, title, and ability, and tell me why you have the tongue of a yoma, and why your pupils are slits and your hair is white like ours."

The titan sat back as if he expected a reply, but Sabrina doubted she could get ten words out without fainting.

"Sword...lungs," she croaked.

Raurek ripped the claymore out, showering her with her own blood. She felt a wave of dizziness. Instinctively, she wanted to unleash her yoki to heal her chest, but she restricted herself to closing the arteries around the wound and sealing the punctured lung. She could feel the limits of her yoki drawing close, and she had to prioritize healing her arm to have any chance of slaughtering the yoma.

Shakily, she got to her feet and recited everything she knew about the single digit warriors, her voice thick with yoki. She was glad she'd investigated the single digits - it gave her plenty to say, which meant she had time to calculate. Her arm was her first problem. If it had just been cut off she could've reattached it without too much trouble, but the cleft full of shattered bone would take huge amounts of yoki to repair - enough to push most offensive warriors past their limits. Sabrina might be able to patch it up without going over sixty percent, but only if she left the skin hanging. She'd save ten percent yoki as a safety margin and keep ten for slaughtering yoma, which brought her to her next problem - how to win. She'd already figured out why her last attempt had failed. Aura suppression was an advanced skill, and it could take weeks or months to shrink your aura down to nothing. It wasn't the kind of technique you could use without practice. She'd let desperation cloud her judgment - a mistake she would not repeat.

Sabrina's voice rose with her yoki, her arm stinging as it stitched itself back together, her eyes scanning the battlefield as she spoke, looking for weaknesses, advantages, anything she could exploit. Her information on the single digits was running short. She was reaching, relating myths and hearsay. There - her eyes caught on the claymore in Ordrun's hand. Ordrun seemed much slower than Raurek; perhaps she could snatch his sword. It wasn't a full plan by any stretch, but she'd run out of things to say about single digits.

"And then there's me, Sabrina, number forty four."

"Ridiculous," Raurek said. "I pay you no compliment, murderess, but a low ranked claymore wouldn't survive ten seconds against me. You're lying."

"Warriors don't lie," Sabrina said. "We have no reason to."

"You are ill informed Raurek," Ordrun said. "Claymores are more numerous now than in eras past. Those ranked above fifty are deserving of fear."

"You've got that right," Sabrina said. "If it's fifty or better, expect a nickname and a technique. As for me, I wanted to be called Army Killer Sabrina, but my comrades aren't that creative, so when they kept seeing me purple with yoma blood, they called me Yoma Blood Sabrina - Bloody Sabrina for short."

Sabrina's arm finished healing. She flexed her fingers. They felt cold and sensitive, skinless as they were, but they'd grip a sword hilt well enough.

"Very well," Ordrun said. "Then it is at last time for you to reveal your ability. Do not deceive yourself - I know you have let your explanations wax long so that your limb might heal. I know you plan to reveal your ability by using it in battle."

Raurek tensed.

"Is that so?" Sabrina asked. "Fine, I'll give you a taste of it."

She lifted one foot off the ground, and with a flick of her toe, a metal spike sprang from her boot just under the ball of her foot.

"See this spike?" She said. "This spike means that even if an old geezer like you knows I'm coming, he can'd do shit."

She stomped, and with two bursts of yoki rammed the spike into the ground and used it as a foothold to launch herself forward. Acceleration stretched her skin, forced blood back from her head. For an instant, she glimpsed snow rushing close beneath her chin, and then she was at the titan's knees. She slammed her left foot into the ground, shoving the spike deep to change direction instantly, and as she flew sideways, her damaged arm snatched the claymore from Ordrun's fingers and swung it, shearing off his arm. She caught sight of his expression as she sped away. He looked mildly surprised, as if he'd just started to realize she was moving.

"You bitch!" Raurek said over the titan's roars of pain. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you!"

Sabrina grinned. "Maybe, but can you catch me before I slaughter all your friends?"

Raurek rushed her, but she shot back amidst the yoma, zig zagging, hacking limbs and skulls and faces. Clawed hands swung to intercept her, but she leapt far to the side and returned from a new angle, chopping a pair of yoma in half. The weaklings began to scatter, and as she raced through them she cried out "Do you see it Ordrun? Why I wanted to be called Army Killer Sabrina? Whether there's ten or twenty or a hundred, it doesn't matter how many there are!"

Sabrina was exaggerating - her muscles would tear from stress long before she killed a hundred, but the feeling of her sword splitting bone kept racing up her arm, driving her mad with excitement. The sound of severing limbs and necks, the rush of wind in her ears, the cold of snow on her chin from charging so low to the ground, and the way that cold complimented the hot rain of blood that showered all around. She was laughing, getting blood in her mouth.

"Ah, Ordrun," she said, "Let me show you up close!"

Raurek stopped chasing her to dash toward Ordrun, but it took him far too long to change directions, and Sabrina reached the titan first. Ordrun's fist swept toward her - too slow. In three chops she removed his arm, his legs, and slashed through his eyes. She wouldn't kill him until she'd given him the promised information. Sabrina spun and saw Raurek bearing down on her. She accelerated sideways, slashing at his midsection, but he evaded and sliced her shoulder. As expected, the technique made little difference against him, so she dashed past him and chased down the fleeing weaklings one by one, laughing so hard that she coughed up some of the blood she'd inhaled. To think, Raurek had done so much to get revenge on her for his family, only to have her slaughter his friends when he finally found her.

A minute of bliss later, the last weakling's head rolled on the ground. The snowfield was soaked in purple, the saplings dripping with blood. Raurek stood hunched, probably struggling to control his pathetic yoma emotions. She hoped he stayed like that a long time - she knew she couldn't beat him, wounded as she was, with her yoki above seventy percent and her bones aching from using her technique. She wanted to gloat a little more before Raurek killed her.

"There you have it Ordrun," she called to the heap of limbs and flesh huddled near Raurek's feet. "My technique - Carnage. Since you couldn't see it, I'll explain. Imagine a claymore ranked in the four hundreds, with her yoki at zero percent. If she starts running, she'll reach her top speed pretty quick because her feet have good traction. Contrast that with a single digit with her yoki at sixty percent. Surely she could move unbelievably fast, right? I assumed so, but when I got paired with number nineteen to hunt an awakened being, I noticed she was slower than I'd predicted. She wasn't actually _slow_ of course - she was blindingly fast, but I could see her. The awakened being could track her movements. Worse, the awakened being, with a much heavier body, could almost match her maneuverability. I figure it's all about traction. If the single digit used all her strength to push her foot backward, her weight wouldn't be enough to give her traction against the ground, and her boot would slide. The awakened have more weight to give them traction, which is how that one kept up with number nineteen. So, I created Carnage, which gives makes my traction _perfect_. I can change direction instantly."

"So that's it," Raurek muttered. "I was wondering why you're so weak."

Sabrina scowled, prowling toward him.

He continued, "All that time training a gimmick, neglecting your fundamental skills - whether it's your footwork or your attacks, you're the sloppiest high ranked claymore I've ever killed."

He leapt and slashed her face, cutting her cheek to the teeth. She spat blood at his eyes, and ground her teeth when he evaded. Raurek's claymore smashed through her guard, pressing her own weapon into the flesh of her sword arm, the edge cleaving into muscle and bone. Sabrina groaned. Her arm dangled, useless. At seventy percent, she couldn't heal it. She clung to her sword left handed, anticipating a blow to her remaining arm, but Raurek lunged past her instead, and she felt a sting behind her knee. She collapsed onto all fours.

She knew how the next second would play out. Raurek would cut off her arm, then her legs, and she would be at his mercy. Growling, she activated Carnage and shoved off with her only good leg, hurling her body through the snow. She rolled to a stop at the cliff's edge and pushed herself up on one knee to glare at him.

He strode toward her. "Give it up, claymore. You must be at your limit by now. Try anything else and you'll awaken."

"Oh?" Sabrina said, mocking. "Did I give you the wrong idea? I'm barely at seventy percent. That's the last secret I promised Ordrun, the reason my hair's white and my tongue looks like a yoma's - I'm not half yoma like the other warriors. Even though warriors and yoma are supposed to be infertile, I had yoma blood before they put monster flesh inside me."

"You're bluffing," Raurek said. "Poorly."

"Believe whatever you want, but here's something you can trust - even now, when I've used enough yoki to put anyone else past her limits, I still have enough to take your head!"

She healed the tendons behind her knee and charged, her eyes closed. She imagined the battlefield as Raurek saw it, as an infinite blackness with outlines of yellow light where yoki flowed. She saw herself from earlier, when she'd tried to suppress her aura; the gold light racing through her limbs was dim, but against the void of Raurek's blindness, even the flashes of yoki she unconsciously released were radiant. She envisioned herself using Carnage, and saw a blinding double flash as she drove the spike deep and kicked off - she smiled. That was her answer. Raurek couldn't see the spike itself, only the yoki. Now that he'd watched her use carnage over and over to slaughter his friends, he was conditioned to think she'd zoom forward after the double flash.

Sabrina opened her eyes. Raurek's ugly face was ten feet away, confident. With a double burst of yoki, she slammed her foot down and pushed without extending the spike. Raurek had no time to think, no time to check if she'd really charged, because at this range, Carnage would've smashed them together in a fraction of a second. He swung where he thought her head would be, and in doing so, left himself open.

Sabrina cut his arms off.

He fell to his knees, screaming. "No, no, no, no!"

Sabrina giggled. "I have to admit you had me worried there, but it looks like no matter how long he trains, a yoma's just a yoma."

Raurek spun to Ordrun. "Please, old friend, we're both dead anyway, so just do it! It's the only chance I have for revenge, so please just-"

Sabrina swung backhanded; Raurek's severed head hit the snow. Just for fun, she slashed his corpse from neck to crotch as it fell, giving him a warrior's stigmata. Purple blood gushed over her boots, mixing with maroon blood from her own wounds. The scene of carnage extended all around her, heads and arms and legs and blood blood blood all mixed up in snow, and there was a big part of her that wanted to dance over it all and laugh and laugh until the yoki in her guts overflowed and filled her up. She doubted she could've resisted the temptation if there'd been more yoma or humans around to kill. She hated yoma, so she never wanted to become one, but that burning in the veins could run away with a girl.

Realizing she was edging close to the eighty percent park, she made an effort to calm down, exhaling, her eyes silvering. She turned to Ordrun, wary from Raurek's final words, but the old titan hadn't healed a single limb. Sabrina sauntered toward him.

Her yoki exploded.

She staggered. Fire flooded her veins; lightning shot through her nerves. She rose past fifty percent, sixty, seventy. Her heart rate tripled as she fought to hold her power below the point of no return. She was hyperventilating, her mind racing. Her yoki had never activated on its own before. Was this what it was like when a warrior reached her limit?

She'd always heard that there were two types of awakening - acute awakening, when a warrior awakened suddenly, and sustained awakening, when years of yoki use accumulated into a gradual, irreversible awakening. She'd already managed to calm down earlier, which meant it wasn't acute, but the sustained awakenings were supposed to be gentler than this. She was supposed to have weeks to send her black card and await execution, but with the force of yoki pounding in her head, she doubted she'd last five minutes.

She staggered toward the cliff. Between death and awakening, the choice was obvious. Suicide was impossible after eighty percent - the yoma's desire to live was too strong, so now, while she was still just below that line… just a few more steps…

A sudden suspicion entered her mind, and she rounded on Ordrun. His head was twisted unnaturally to stare at her, his eyes wide, jaw clenched, and in that moment, she knew this was his technique. Sabrina rushed Ordrun, made it one step, and collapsed onto hands and knees. She was past the point of no return. With a roar that sounded all too much like a yoma's, she lunged for the cliff, only to see her hands claw the stony edge, stopping her on the brink. Her yoki was boiling inside every part of her body, pulsing, stroking her every nerve from the inside out. She could feel the way it changed her. With every pulse she was getting tougher, stronger, faster. Her human mind was shrinking, its protests shrinking with it, getting swallowed in the rush of awakening. Only one of its complaints seemed relevant anymore - one memory. The awakened part of her snarled at it. Couldn't it wait until she was done? No. The memory was too strong to be dismissed. It was the first memory - the only memory from before she became a warrior. . .

. . . The door creaked. Candlelight wavered on the far side, silhouetting black cloaked men. Sabrina shrank against the rock. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears. She couldn't stand to hear it again - to hear it coming. She heard it anyway. The clink of manacles, the scratch of claws against the floor, the patter of overflowing drool. She started screaming just to cover up the sounds. Sharp things punctured her belly and peeled back the skin and muscle, and then she felt the contours of a face nestling into her guts to feed. Sabrina's body clenched, curling into a fetal pose around the head.

"Come now, there's no need to scream so theatrically," said a man's voice. "You must be accustomed to our routine by now. You used to be so stoic, always holding that dead expression no matter what happened, and while I do appreciate that you've livened up, I am concerned over your stubbornness. Awakening's not a bad thing you know - few regret it once it's done. You're just a cocoon right now. Let your real self out!"

The face in her guts withdrew, and Sabrina curled tighter to hold her ruined innards in place.

"Truly," the man said, "you don't have a choice in the matter. Even if you resist the pain every day, the yoki you use to heal will drive you to a sustained awakening before long. I only wish you'd cooperate sooner. We are on a schedule you know."

Sabrina heard footsteps, and the door creaked shut. When she opened her eyes, she was back on the clifftop in Alfons. The memory didn't make sense - it implied she was already a warrior back then, but her memories of becoming a warrior were more recent. Even the events themselves were fragmented. She sometimes remembered different days or different words; there were a hundred variations. It didn't matter. What mattered was the _feeling_ of the memory - the pain and fear, the overwhelming hate. She hated humans because of the man who spoke in her memory, but she did not know who that man was or where to find him, so the brunt of her hatred fell on yoma for their part in it. It wasn't enough just to slaughter yoma - she had to eat their guts - to show them what it was like back in that cell. That hatred had molded her, and now, as she teetered on the brink of becoming yoma, it reared up and fought where her rational mind failed.

Sabrina roared at the top of the cliff, facing the sun, sweat and spittle falling into the abyss below. There was a god inside her aching to burst out from her fingers, from her heart. More than anything, she wanted to unleash it, but at the same time she hated it. She'd heard that awakening felt like sex, but that was wrong. Even though her nerves tingled with mounting sensation - even though her body itched to complete the process, it wasn't like sex at all, because in sex the sensation would peak and recede, but Sabrina _felt_ that the climax of awakening would last forever. No matter how long she lived, she'd always be intoxicated by her own magnificent power. That must be why awakened were so arrogant. Only the awakened knew what it was to live with a body full of yoki. Sabrina felt a pleasant buzzing as the skin of her back ripped open. Something was sliding out of her. Maybe arms, maybe wings. Her human mind and her hatred grew desperate.

"Ordrun," she groaned. "Heal yourself. . . Before it's too late. . . Kill. . . me."

She could feel her skull thickening, horns reaching up through her hair. Her wounds were closing.

"Do it Ordrun, damn you! You want revenge for Raurek and his stupid yoma family? Come take it. I'm begging you!"

Ordrun's voice was a rasp of pain. "If I had the strength to heal my wounds and walk to your side, even then I would not dream of killing you. Your end is perfect - poetic. I cannot think of a more fitting revenge than for you to transform into something you hate and be hunted down by those you once called comrades. If Raurek were alive to see you as you are now, struggling in vain far beyond the point of turning back, I'm certain he would weep for joy."

Sabrina's hatred flared. She saw two futures. In one, Raurek trained for over a century, Sabrina murdered his family, and when he came for revenge all his skills turned out to be pointless because, in the end, a yoma was just a yoma. In the second future Sabrina awakened, and it turned out that Raurek hadn't been just another yoma. His training had paid off. He got revenge. In the world where she awakened, yoma could be more than pathetic wastes of meat. They could be _people_.

Sabrina's fury turned white hot. Hot enough to burn the god inside her.

"A yoma is just a yoma."

The future where Raurek won did not exist - could not exist.

"Even after a hundred years, a yoma is just a yoma!"

Her god was shrinking, her body writhing with the frustration of an awakening cut short.

"I hate you! I hate all you damn yoma! I'll eat your guts!"

Her yoki fell. The horns and extra limbs retracted. She looked down at her small body, sticky with sweat and blood and melted snow. There was no sign of the god, just Bloody Sabrina, and a bit of a different scent, like that of an awakened being. Slowly, she exhaled. Passing eighty percent appeared to be more reversible than she'd been led to believe. She would have to come up with some theories about that, but first, she still had a yoma to kill. Fetching her sword from where she'd dropped it, she approached the titan's remains.

"You still alive?" She asked.

The old yoma stared at her, his breathing shallow.

"Give me all your information about other old yoma, or you'll die slowly."

He shook his head.

"I'll let you heal your wounds if you do," she said, "give you another shot at fighting me."

"No."

"You gave me the same offer earlier, you know, and it worked out well enough for me."

"Remove my head, and spare us both your attempts at persuasion. Nothing will induce me to tell you what you desire to know."

"You know, for once I'm almost too worn out to torture one of you guys, but I promised you'd die slowly, so. . ."

She leaned over his belly and dug into the sour, smelly meat. Somehow, eating guts felt more natural than it ever had.


	3. Broken Glass

In the Cathedral of Miria, stained glass mellowed the light so that midday felt like evening. Raki sat on the floor in a circular room, bathed in the artificial sunset filtered through the yellow tresses of the women depicted all around him. Every one of them was dead now, he realized. The room was an unused spare. If it had once played host to the councils of mighty claymores, there was no sign of it. The echoes of speeches were faded, the furniture gone. The only hints of its former glory were the stained glass windows that circled its wall, towering thirty feet from floor to ceiling. Five of the six windows depicted women Raki had once called friends. The last window was broken.

It was in this last window that Raki sat, his back to the light, hood raised. His feet dangled over the cobbles of the new cathedral square far below. He supposed that if he fell he would disturb the festivities of the crowds down there, though, with the loudness of the drums and the drunkenness of the festivalgoers, it was possible no one would notice.

"Still haunting the old council room I see," someone said. "You really do get more like a ghost as you age."

The man's footsteps crackled as he crossed broken glass, and Raki felt a weight settle beside him. Two black-robed legs joined Raki's over the square below, and Raki reflected that if someone were to fall, it should not be Raki, but the man beside him.

"Nicomedeus," Raki said.

The man extended a long arm around Raki's shoulders, apparently oblivious to the older man's shudder.

"Look at the humans go," Nicomedeus said. "Only fifteen years, and already they have forgotten that Cataclysm day is supposed to be one of mourning. They drape themselves and their city in black, but their natural love of merriment shines through a little more each year. Enviable, aren't they? If only you could forget that day so easily, instead of haunting these towers as you do."

"Don't talk about humans like you're not one," Raki said.

There was a frown in Nicomedeus' voice when he replied. "Am I human? It's difficult to remember when I work so closely with half yoma, raising such thrilling experiments for the sake of Rabona's protection."

"They're not experiments anymore - they're an army."

"Experiments or soldiers, they come to the same thing. Speaking of which, didn't I ask you to select one of the advance squads?"

"You know that you did."

"And who did you choose?"

"Number one hundred ninety six, Ziedra, number forty four, Sabrina, and number nine, Catalina. I tasked men to direct them here at sundown."

"Oh, sending out your pet project are you? I appreciate that, but might I make a suggestion? Instead of Ziedra, why don't we send number four hundred eleven."

Raki grimaced and started to object, but Nicomedeus patted his shoulder. "No need to worry about it. I've already changed the orders."

Glass crunched as Nicomedeus stood and began to leave.

"Necis was right about you," Raki said.

The footsteps stopped.

"I won't hate you for thinking that," Nicomedeus said. "Ever since I was a child, there have always been some who were suspicious of me. What you need to understand is that, having survived half a century of suspicion, I must either be innocent, or my guilt must be unprovable. So, don't think about it too much." Nicomedeus chuckled to himself. "You know, I feel like I can speak more openly with you than with the others, Raki. Enjoy your festival day. Try not to dwell on the past."

He left, and the afternoon warmth sent Raki into a doze, reliving the past in daydreams and nightmares until the sun hung low in front of him, the artificial evening turned real.

The clink of metal boots roused him from his recollections. He turned to see the number nine claymore of the Organization, Catalina. She stood straight, gaze fixed ahead. Aside from her open faced helm, which was standard issue, her armor was specialized to protect her right side. She had no pauldron for her left shoulder, and her breastplate, if it could be called that, only covered her from underarm to hip on one side. Her right arm was sheathed in metal. To Raki, the armor revealed her mindset as a fighter - she would charge the enemy sword-arm first, and destroy them in a single strike.

"Catalina," Raki said.

"You have orders for me?" Catalina asked.

"Yes, once the others arrive. You'll be leading number forty four and number four hundred eleven."

The claymore grimaced.

"I see you know one or both by reputation," Raki said.

"I study all my comrades. It is hard to imagine a mission that would benefit from number four hundred eleven's presence."

"I'll explain when they get here." Raki faced forward, and the pair of them waited as the sun melted against the horizon. In the city below, revellers lit bonfires and danced, casting huge, writhing shadows on the black banners of mourning that hung around them. From rooftop parties and alley revels alike, the stench of smoke flooded Raki's nose. Cries of joy heaped atop one another until they sounded like cries of pain, like the sound of claymores screaming together as they burned, as the earth itself scorched beneath them and the air blackened with smoke as far as the eye could see. Like Cataclysm.

Raki jerked out of his doze at the sound of speaking.

"Are you awake?" Catalina asked.

"Yes."

"Humans are supposed to lie down to sleep, and it is dangerous to doze halfway out a window. Your sleeping habits are unhealthy."

"I'll. . . Consider that."

"A messenger came. He said number four hundred eleven could not understand the order to meet because she is gambling, dancing, and drinking in a manner unbecoming of a warrior."

Raki glanced at Catalina. She looked like she'd swallowed something rotten.

"And number forty four?" He asked.

"Playing festival games and drinking, ignoring orders. Say the word, and I will drag them here."

Raki shook his head. "It is rare enough for claymores to find a moment of happiness. I won't interrupt theirs. We'll meet in the morning. You're dismissed until then."

Catalina's footsteps began to recede, but, like Nicomedeus earlier, she paused. "I've been looking at the stained glass while you slept. I had a question about it."

"Feel free to ask."

"I have studied all five warriors in the windows, down to their history, numbers, and techniques, but I cannot determine who the broken window would have shown."

"It showed no one of importance," he said. "Not a claymore like the others, just a human who thought he could understand them."

"I am certain the organization will replace it. This is a beautiful room."

Her footsteps faded, and Raki struggled to his feet, his knees aching. It was a sign of age that he felt like going to bed after a day of sitting and dozing in the sun. Perhaps breaking the window had tired him. As he made his way to the stairwell, his shoes crushed bits of glass. Catalina was right, of course; the window would be replaced with better, finer glass. It would depict a recent hero - Asher, perhaps. But first the shards of the old window would be swept away, and a cloth like a burial shroud would cover the opening to keep the insects and birds and other living things away until the young window was ready to replace the old.

* * *

Sabrina woke as the mourning banner she'd been using as a blanket was pulled away. She groaned. Had the sun always been that bright?

"Oy, what have we here?" Said a woman's voice. "A claymore catchin' a wink in me side yard? And right atop me junipers no less. I'd tell ye to mind your conduct young lady, but seeing as it was Cataclysm last night, I'll ask instead if ye'd like a douse to help ye wake."

Only half listening, Sabrina nodded absently as she fell back to sleep.

Freezing water splashed over her face. She sat bolt upright, gasping. The human woman was chuckling at her.

"There we go young lady. There's still a bit left in the bucket if ye want a sip."

Sabrina snatched the bucket and drank. The wood was rough against her lips, but the water was cold, and it cleared her mind. Her head throbbed, and she wondered why she'd gotten so drunk. She'd never been averse to one or twelve shots now and again, but she'd never drunk enough to make her head feel like _this_. She lowered the bucket and saw the human properly for the first time. The woman looked frumpy and wrinkled, but she smelled delicious - sweet and juicy, like hot sausages smell when you haven't eaten in weeks.

Sabrina rolled off the junipers and hurried down the street. Now she remembered why she'd gotten so drunk. Somewhere in all the whirling dances and games, she'd realized how much she wanted to eat the humans around her, and decided that the safest way to avoid doing so was to drink herself unconscious as swiftly as possible. In retrospect, that was stupid, but she'd panicked. In fact, she was panicking _now_. Had she become a yoma after all? Her mind still felt like her own, but she'd never hungered for human guts before, and she _had_ gone over eighty percent after killing Raurek.

She made for the Cathedral of Miria. She needed to be away from humans, and the only humans at the cathedral were gross old men. It would be easy to ignore the hunger there.

A woman bustled past Sabrina. Children ran by her legs, careless, vulnerable. The god inside her reared its head, slavering. Sabrina grimaced and quickened her pace. Ultimately, a yoma was a creature who ate human guts; _wanting_ to eat human guts wasn't the same.

Sabrina took the cathedral steps four at a time, flung open the double doors, and slammed them behind her. She exhaled through her nose, as if she could breathe the aroma of humans out of her mind. The air in the cathedral was cooler, saner. The pillars and high archways of the entrance hall rose all around her, trainees loitering among the pillars just as Sabrina had as a child. Far ahead, the hall widened under the great dome of the cathedral, and beneath the center of the dome, dappled with rainbow glimmers from stained glass above, stood the Statue of God and Heroes. Sabrina walked by it, skirting its base. The hall under the dome was large enough for the click of her boots to echo, but not large enough for a person to stand back to look at the statue. Always, the viewer was in its shadow, craning to see up to its peak where, framed against the marble and glass of the dome, an alabaster crown represented Rabon, God of all creation. Below him were his four aspects - the twin goddesses of love, Teresa and Clare, and the much less beloved goddesses of hate, Edea and Sabrina, who no one liked to talk about. The base of the statue was carved in the likeness of Miria and a few dozen lesser heroes Sabrina didn't recognize, though she'd probably studied their special abilities.

A rambunctious voice ruined the silence with echoes. "There you are. I was just heading out to look for you. Aren't I lucky to find you here?"

A silver-eyed woman in a black dress bounded up to Sabrina. The newcomer twirled in a circle so that her dress puffed out, caught it by the hem, and gave a curtsy. It was the first time Sabrina had seen a silver-eyed woman in a dress.

"Hi there. I'm Gretta, number four hundred eleven. Did you know you smell _exactly_ like an awakened being? It smells nice on you. Anyway, you're espeeecially late to our meeting, and I can tell Catalina's getting antsy, so you'd better follow me."

She grabbed Sabrina's wrist and pulled her along until Sabrina shook her off and followed under her own power. Leaving aside the question of whether Sabrina really smelled like an awakened being or how the hell someone with a number above four hundred knew what an awakened being smelled like, was this idiot even a warrior? Her attitude was absurd, and she had the worst case of colorhead Sabrina had ever seen. Most of the first generation were colorheads, but all the ones Sabrina had met were at least close to blonde, whereas Gretta was a flaming redhead; in three feet of wavy locks, not one strand was paler than a carrot. She didn't even have a sword. Worse, she seemed to have no respect for the social distance between high and low ranked warriors, which even fresh graduates understood.

Gretta led Sabrina to a room lit by a skylight. The deep sand underfoot showed it was a trainee sparring room, though at the moment it held only Raki and the number nine, Comrade Killer Catalina, who was pacing, arms crossed. As soon Gretta shut the door, Catalina whirled to face Sabrina.

"Number forty four, finally. Where is your equipment?"

Sabrina paused to think. Ah, that was it. "It's in a tavern off Banker's Lane."

"And where is it _supposed_ to be?" Catalina asked.

"In a tavern off Banker's Lane. It's not like I need it in Rabona."

Catalina's teeth clenched, and Sabrina noticed that anger made her prettier. That didn't change the fact that they were probably going to fight to the death someday.

"I am convinced that the newer generations lack discipline," Catalina said. "I cannot help but think that the training regimen is getting lax."

Sabrina glanced meaningfully at Gretta, who was obviously part of the first generation, and was busy working on a sand castle.

Catalina frowned. "Perhaps it has always been lax," she conceded. "The point stands. Your rank is above fifty. Your behavior should reflect that."

"Raki," Sabrina said, "tell me this isn't going where I think it is. I can't work with her, much less take orders from her. If we're hunting an awakened together, at least promote me over her first."

"I don't have the authority to make promotions," the old man said. "Sit with me. There is much I must tell the three of you, and I can't crane my neck to look up at you long."

Catalina knelt beside Raki; Sabrina sat opposite them. Gretta didn't move from where she lay on her side, but one hand gracefully stirred the sand castle to nothingness, and her ear was turned toward Raki, her expression attentive.

"To put it simply," Raki said, "the Organization is going to war."

"Would this have anything to do with the Cataclysm?" Catalina asked.

"I see you have heard the rumors," Raki said. "Among the many pieces of conjecture that circulate about that event, the most farfetched are true. Fifteen years ago, a foreign army landed in the Eastern territory of Sutafu - an army of the descendants of dragons, asarakam."

Sabrina glanced at the other warriors to see if they were believing this. Catalina looked grim, unsurprisingly. Gretta was stroking the sand, slowly building a mound beneath her fingers, her face neutral. Sabrina didn't know how either of them behaved when they were skeptical, so she couldn't speak for them, but to Sabrina it sounded like the kind of story the organization might tell troublemakers before putting them on a boat and sending them off to get lost and starve on the ocean.

"Though the new Organization hadn't been formed at the time of the Cataclysm," Raki said, "claymores still remained from the old times. Most were only trainees in the old Organization, but a few had been full warriors, and all were hardened in Lucy's inferno and the Baroness Wars. Most importantly, the warriors called the right and left hands of Miria were alive, and stronger than ever. But the wars had not been easy on them, and most claymores were near their sustained awakenings. I think Miria and the others knew that, win or lose, they wouldn't return from Cataclysm. With my own eyes, I saw Miria lead the mightiest army ever assembled on this continent from the gates of Rabona. I followed them as well as an old man could, but fell behind. The things I saw when I finally arrived I do not care to tell. Suffice it to say that the coastal lands of Sutafu were destroyed, and not a single asarakam or claymore returned from the slaughter."

Catalina stood and resumed her pacing. "So, asarakam killed the great Miria."

"Maybe she burned to ash in the battle, like so many others" Raki said. "But she was never one to lose a fight, and neither was her right hand, the old number forty seven. I believe they won, but passed their sustained limits. They must have traded black cards rather than awaken."

"If that's the case, then we can defeat the asarakam," Catalina said. "Even if it was with the advantage of Phantom Miria's leadership, the fact remains that a few scores of experienced warriors matched an asarakam army. The modern organization can field hundreds more warriors."

"Do not be so sure," Raki said. "On the day of Cataclysm, the right hand of Miria probably used a certain technique which no other warrior has ever learned. I witnessed it once. It was similar to, but distinct from, an awakened form. While in this form she was truly unstoppable."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. That sounded like a myth, so much so that it made Sabrina sure Raki believed what he was telling them - a liar would've left out something so improbable.

"Do you understand?" Raki said. "Even with an invincible warrior and Miria's command, the battle ended in mutual annihilation. With our invincible warrior gone, our odds of success are slim. Still, the organization has decided to attack, so that is what you will do - journey to the eastern shores in the land of Sutafu, meet with the other claymores and human soldiers who will assemble there, and sail to invade the lands of the asarakam."

Sabrina kept the suspicion out of her voice. "Why are you just telling us? Wouldn't it be more efficient to brief the whole army at once, with all the other warriors and human troops?"

"True, however the situation is complicated. Although no claymores returned from the Cataclysm, some awakened. Perhaps the agony of mortal wounds drove them over the edge, or they reached their limit and no one nearby was alive to execute them. Whatever the reason, a group of awakened beings emerged in Sutafu after Cataclysm. That's why humans haven't resettled the East, and why no claymore is assigned to those lands."

"Why haven't they been eradicated?" Catalina demanded.

"Unfortunately, they are quite powerful, and have grown numerous over the years as new awakened sought refuge in the East. And the eastern landscape works to their advantage. They are not an enemy the organization can take lightly, so we are concerned that once most of our claymores are at sea, the awakened will grow bold enough to attack the central lands. To prevent this, the army will deploy in hunting groups of three to five, and will fight awakened beings on their way through Sutafu. Claymores who survive to join the invasion will have gained experience, while the awakened will be weakened."

Catalina stopped pacing. Her mouth was an iron line, but there was a smile in her eyes. "To travel in a straight line whilst killing as many awakened beings as possible - I cannot think of a more straightforward mission."

"Not quite," Raki said. "We intend to assassinate the awakened beings' leader before they discover that claymores have entered the east. You will go in advance to accomplish this, stealthily. You will avoid battle until you have killed your target, and when you have done so, or when three months have passed, you will proceed to the rendezvous on the coast.

"Hold on," Sabrina said. "How's the stealth part going to work? I've never heard of Catalina being able to suppress her yoki, and I know _I_ can't. If you're expecting us to take yoki suppressants while we're in a land full of awakened beings. . ."

"You will take suppressants with you," Raki said, "but your primary means of stealth will be Gretta. Despite her appearance, she is skilled at sensing and manipulating yoki. She will detect the awakened ones from afar and guide you around them. You won't have to protect her in battle either - she has almost no yoki of her own, so she's impossible for all but the most perceptive awakened to sense."

Gretta was smiling, her long fingers swirling the base of the sand mound she'd created, eroding its foundations. "I already know everything about the leader of the awakened beings," she said. "So that should be everything, right Raki? I'll go get packed." She hopped to her feet.

"Meet at the east gate in one hour," Catalina said.

"Aye aye, fearless leader," Gretta said, and left.

The number nine saluted Raki and followed, pausing by Sabrina. "One hour. No excuses," Catalina said. "And don't forget your armor."

She shut the door behind her, leaving Sabrina alone with the old man.

"Do you have more questions," he said, "or perhaps something to report from your last mission?"

"Something to report," she said. "I found two claymores in Alfons. In exchange for one, I want a metal band like the ones we sheathe our swords through, except thicker, with the toughest metal you have, and I want it attached to a strap that can fit around my leg."

"The organization isn't in the habit of bargaining with its soldiers."

"It's for a technique I'm developing, like the spike boots were. I'll be a more effective fighter on the mainland if I have it."

"I'll see about it," Raki said. "If the request is fulfilled, you'll find your new equipment at the rendezvous. Did you have anything else to report?"

"No."

She'd decided not to tell the Organization she'd met ancient yoma. If Raurek's accusation that the Organization created yoma was true, the Organization might kill Sabrina on the off chance that the ancient yoma had told her. After all, if it _was_ true, that secret had the power to turn every last warrior against the organization. Sabrina would butcher the organization _herself_ if it was true.

It probably wasn't true.


	4. A Trio of Codes

_Seven days later. . ._

Gazing down from a mountain ridge, Sabrina grimaced at her first view of Sutafu. It was a wasteland of brown rock and dust, wrinkled nearby and jagged far away. Plenty of spots for the awakened to hide. Behind her, she heard Gretta panting, finally reaching the top of the slope to join Catalina and Sabrina on the ridge.

"Hoo," Gretta said. "I never knew mountains could be so _big_. Time for a break. Hey Cataleeeena, can I have a lemon as a snack?"

A week ago, hearing her name pronounced that way would've made Catalina's eyebrows twitch, and she would've explained that she had no intention of micromanaging her associates' eating habits, so Gretta didn't need to ask such questions. Now, however, Catalina seemed numb to Gretta's ways.

"Fine," Catalina said. "But stay low and keep your yoki senses sharp."

"Yeees fearless leader."

Gretta waved her arms like a baby reaching for its mother's breast - a motion Sabrina had learned meant she wanted her pack. Gingerly, Sabrina unslung the bag, which was larger than her entire body. The ground almost shook as it landed. Sabrina was convinced Gretta had packed it extra heavy because she knew that, when Catalina saw the redhead staggering under the weight of her own gear, she'd order Sabrina to carry it. Sabrina had refused and cussed Catalina out, but Catalina pointed out that their pace would be sluggish otherwise, and Sabrina's spiked boots would make her better at managing the weight on the treacherous mountain footing. Sabrina had to admit that was a good point, and the matter was settled. Sabrina was glad to see that Catalina was willing to discuss her orders, rather than expecting them to be obeyed without question.

Maybe they wouldn't end up killing each other after all.

Sabrina leaned against a rock and watched Gretta sort through her pack, presumably questing for her lemons. The redhead pulled out pots and pans, two dresses, bottles of booze - all sorts of heavy things that no warrior in her right mind would carry around, and then, straining, she heaved out a boulder the size of her head.

Sabrina straightened, her mouth open. Gretta heaved out two more boulders.

"Gretta," Sabrina said.

"Yeees Sabrina?"

"Explain to me why, in the pack that I've lugged through forests and mountains halfway across Toulouse, you are keeping _three giant boulders_."

Gretta looked between Sabrina and the boulders, as if deliberating. Then a faraway look entered her eyes, and she spared one hand from her rummaging and splayed it dramatically on her chest. "I'm glad you asked," she said. "You see, I was raised at the Organization's cathedral even when I was a human child, and because there were no dolls for little girls there, I made do with these small rocks. They are important comrades to me, and I would not leave them behind in Rabona for some mason to turn into yet another statue of the love goddesses or whatever."

"A child couldn't even _move_ those rocks," Sabrina said.

"They were very sedentary dolls," Gretta said. "Ah, I got them!" She pulled out four lemons, jars of blueberry and raspberry preserves, a loaf of bread, and a half eaten wheel of cheese. Crossing her legs, she spread the food across her lap and ate, taking bites out of each part of her meal, and swallowing only when she had a bit of everything in her mouth. Catalina eyed the redhead's feast, and Sabrina knew the number nine's estimation of how far they'd get that day was dwindling. They'd learned from experience that trying to hurry Gretta's voracious eating didn't help. Two, sometimes three times a day they had to wait through her feasts, and then wait more as she packed her stuff - it always took a few tries to get everything to fit.

Sabrina decided that there was an invisible line representing the maximum amount someone could get away with by acting like a five year old, and that someday the colorhead would cross that line, and someone would snap, awaken, and kill her.

That someone would be Sabrina.

Sabrina left the feasting monster and joined Catalina in scanning the eastern slope of the mountain. Rugged foothills hid the details of the landscape, making it hard to guess which path was stealthiest.

"You worked in Alfons for a time, number forty four," Catalina said, "so you know mountains. What path would you take? The center ridge is too exposed, so we can eliminate that route, but I cannot decide whether to take the canyon to the south or climb down the bowl to the north."

"I'd take the canyon. It's narrow enough to hide us from a distance," Sabrina said.

Gretta called from behind them. "Good thinking Sabriiina. I completely agree - is what I'd like to say, but actually, there's a yoma hiding down the canyon. Besides, the North way has water, and I want a bath."

"How could you possibly know the north way has water?" Sabrina asked.

"I have a helper in the sky who can see stuff like that," she said.

After Gretta's story about boulder dolls, Sabrina had no idea how seriously to take this helper in the sky stuff.

"We go through the canyon," Catalina said. "Even if the yoma is an awakened being, against number forty four and myself, it will not pose a threat."

"Ooh, how confident. Just what I expect from a single digit. Buuut, aren't you worried it could get away and report us? If it's a lookout, it might even have wings you know, and my yoki sensing isn't always the _most_ precise either, so there could be two awakened beings, or ten if they're suppressing their auras."

Catalina crossed her arms, frowning. "Decent points. Here's the plan then. Number forty four and I will ingest yoki suppressants and remain here to wait out the first two hours of their effects. In the meantime, you will scout down the canyon to determine the exact location of the enemy. You will wait for us to catch up, and we will attack the instant the effects of our medication begin to wear off. With this method we can surprise the opponent and kill it before it can escape. Do either of you see any problems in this plan?"

"Yeees. The Organization said to avoid fighting anyone except the leader, and also your plan needs more baths in it."

Catalina's brow twitched. "I suppose you are correct. If we are going against orders, you two deserve to know why. It is not my intention to sabotage our mission, nor do I wish to give either of you the impression that the Organization's orders should be taken lightly. However, if there is an awakened being lying in ambush where our comrades will pass in the coming weeks, it is against my nature to go by in peace."

"Is that the reeeal reason though, Catalina? Your history makes you seem a little more extreme than that. I mean, if you ran wild like this just to protect your comrades, you wouldn't be called Comrade-Killer Catalina, would you?" She made a loud slurping noise, sucking juice from the remains of a lemon, and Sabrina realized that it wasn't just Gretta's mannerisms or her lack of a sword that made her seem unlike other warriors; Gretta gave off a feeling like that of the Organization's men. Part of it was her black clothing, but much more came from the way she sat relaxed as she scrutinized a being enormously more powerful than herself, just as Catalina's handler would have.

"Most of the warriors I've killed were deserters," Catalina said. "Ther rest were no better than yoma."

"I see how it is Cataliiina. You're one of those warriors with a mysterious code that you follow, and if the code and your orders don't match up, well, you'll choose the code."

"The code is not mysterious," Catalina said. "I believe that all warriors know it, and become half yoma in order to follow it, though some forget it along the way."

"Ooh, so dramatic."

Gretta giggled, but to Sabrina, the number nine did look dramatic. The sun was just beginning to lower, and Catalina's face was radiant in its glow. Her hair, which normally lay over her left breast, flew in the wind like a banner of gold.

Catalina's voice rang clear. "If you reduce everything that makes a warrior what she is down to a single idea, you get this: destroy evil instantly. That is the code of warriors, and that is why we are going down the canyon to kill that yoma."

Sabrina smiled. Tactically, it wasn't a good idea to fight anyone except their target, but after Catalina made such a declaration, there was nothing Sabrina would rather do than follow her into a fight, and let the consequences fall as they may.

"Oh aaare we going down there," Gretta said. "But then where will I have my bath?"

"Your bath will have to wait," Catalina said.

"Is that an ooorder?"

"Yes."

"That's too bad, because I have a code too, and if I have to choose between your orders and my code, I'll choose my cooode."

The invisible line was getting closer. Sabrina considered trying to threaten Gretta, but she suspected the redhead would call her bluff, and though Sabrina had killed plenty of yoma and humans, she'd never raised her hand against a comrade.

"This is ridiculous," Catalina said. "Are you telling me you have some kind of. . . of-"

"Code of Baths," Gretta said.

"Unacceptable. You will cooperate with the team. You will act your age-"

"I'm a year ooolder than you, you know, and twooo years older than Sabrina."

"-and you will _stop_ dragging words out like that - it's infuriating!"

Gretta hopped onto a rock, raised her lemon high, and jumped in time with her words. "Code of Baths! Code of Baths!"

"Get down immediately," Catalina said. "We are within sight of Sutafu."

"Code of Baths! Code of Baths!"

Sabrina took two strides, yanked Gretta's feet out from under her, and caught her before she hit the ground. The redhead tried to wiggle free, but the difference in strength was too great - Sabrina could barely feel her struggles as she snatched both of Gretta's wrists and sat on the ground with the redhead in her lap. The pin trapped everything but Gretta's legs, though, since Sabrina was short, her face ended up in Gretta's hair.

"Thank you Sabrina," Catalina said from somewhere on the other side of Gretta's hair.

"No faaair Sabrina. You told Raki you couldn't work with Catalina. I thought you'd rebel with me for suuure."

Sabrina's comrades argued as Sabrina squinted against Gretta's hair. While most warriors stank of yoma, Gretta's hair smelled of dirt, with a bit of sweat and some grass mixed in, probably from when Gretta used a heap of grass as a pillow the other day.

Somewhere in the parts of the world not full of orange hair, the debaters dueled. Catalina had the advantages of authority and the threat of force, but Gretta implied that she'd give false scouting reports if they forced her to cooperate. Catalina tried arguing for destroying evil, but Gretta countered that bathing destroyed the evils of poor hygiene. To Sabrina, their roles seemed reversed, since Catalina gave the impression of responsibility while arguing they disobey the Organization, and Gretta was childish while advocating that they obey orders. At times, the redhead criticized the tactical wisdom of attacking the awakened, and at other times she chanted "code of baths," and wouldn't shut up. It was an absurd way of arguing. Sabrina would never have thought it could work, and yet, step by step, Gretta started to use more reasonable arguments, and bargained her way out of participating in the canyon plan, then bargained Sabrina out, and finally, as the sun was setting, got Catalina to agree that the Organization's plan was, in this instance, the most effective way to fulfill her code, and they would therefore avoid all awakened beings until their target was dead.

Sabrina released her captive, dumbfounded. She expected the redhead to gloat over her victory, but Gretta was quiet as she packed, and this time she fit everything on her first attempt and was ready to go by twilight.

The northern route was steep, the trail washed out and thick with weeds. Sabrina wasn't surprised that no one maintained a trail leading to awakened country, but it made for slow going on the slopes, since she had to use her spikes to keep the pack from unbalancing her. Gretta took it slow too, and it wasn't long before Catalina got frustrated with their pace, said she'd meet them again at midnight, and disappeared down the slopes.

Almost as soon as Catalina left, Gretta tripped on a rock. Sabrina caught her, but before long the redhead slipped on shale and had to be grabbed again. Around the fourth time, Sabrina caught her with both arms and started carrying her.

"Okay, that trick I can understand," Sabrina said.

"Ooh, there's a trick? Tell me, tell me."

"If you'd asked me to carry you, I never would've agreed to it, so you tripped until it was easier for me to pick you up than not."

The redhead giggled. "How suspicious of you. But it goes muuuch deeper than that. You see, every time I get you to help me, it gets mentally easier for you to help me again - it becomes habitual, so before you know it you'll be my guardian angel, and also my packhorse."

"That kind of scheme would work better if you kept it secret."

"Yes, that's certainly true on most targets."

"Anyway, what I _don't_ understand is how you changed Catalina's mind."

"It wasn't easy, but I think we should wait to talk about it for a little while. My helper in the sky just saw something waiting up ahead."

"What is it?"

"It's not like I can read his mind. I just know he's spotted something."

Sabrina scanned the gloom as she descended. She tried to step quietly, but on the rocky slope, it was impossible to move without loosing an avalanche of pebbles. She was breathing hard as well, the muscles in her back and legs straining to carry both Gretta and her enormous pack, so that by the time she reached the crags at the base of the slope, she doubted a sleeping drunk could have failed to hear her. She set Gretta on her feet and checked her sword to make sure it would draw smoothly, whispering, "Take the pack. Hide."

Weight lifted from her shoulders as Gretta obeyed. Sabrina felt light enough to fly. She prowled forward, half crouched. Fins and pillars of rock surrounded her - a maze into which only the barest hints of moonlight crept, but with silver eyes, even the blackness of caverns was merely dim. The hair on the back of her neck raised. She crouched lower, almost on all fours. Her body was poised on the verge of Carnage. Her legs itched to push off spikes, her arms ached to draw and cut. Her eyes darted across the twisted stone, searching for threats.

Ten paces away, a man stepped out from behind a pillar, his hand raised in greeting. "Good eve-"

Sabrina cut his head in half.

Blood gushed from his brain. He collapsed against the pillar and slid to the ground, his mouth slack, purple bruises flooding down the inside of his face as blood streamed over the outside. For a heartbeat, Sabrina wondered if he was a real human or a yoma in human form. Then the smell hit her - the smell of freshly killed human, and the god inside her roared.

Sabrina gasped. Her sword clattered to the ground. She'd thought she'd felt hunger in Rabona.

She'd been wrong.

She was shaking, her heart pounding. Had the hunger grown with time, or was it stronger because the human was open and bleeding? She felt wetness on her face, and realized that her cheeks had been splattered with human blood as the corpse fell. Her mouth opened, her yoma tongue lolling out. She pulled it back, chomping her teeth shut hard enough to make an audible click. The god was whispering in her ear with Sabrina's own voice, Sabrina's own feelings.

 _A yoma is a gut eater_ , it said. _Blood doesn't matter. A warrior might lick up a few drops of blood, and no one would say she's a yoma for it._

But would it really stop with blood? Once she'd tasted the nectar on her face, could she keep herself from going to the source?

 _Why would it become more difficult? If the hunger has grown over time without eating, a little food might reduce our craving. Besides, I'm sure we can resist; the corpse looks like a middle aged man - not our type. It's not like there's a pretty girl writhing with a gut wound, still alive enough that you can feel her belly rise and fall against your face as you slide your tongue inside her._

Sabrina tried very hard to think about something else - anything else. Slowly, her tongue slithered up to lick the blood, and found it sweeter and richer than honey, smoother and thicker than cream. If it was a god that hungered inside her, then blood was the wine of the gods. Sabrina's tongue ran under her eyes, down to her chin, seeking more, and there was more - plenty of it - just not on her face. She took a step forward. There was blood on the pillar. Drinking blood off a stone wouldn't make her a yoma. In fact, drinking blood and eating guts weren't the same thing at all.

 _In fact, drinking blood directly from a human's guts is distinct from the behavior of yoma._

Except it wasn't. Sabrina knew it wasn't. She jammed her boot spikes into the ground, rooting herself in place. She had to think about something else - anything else to get the scent of blood out of her head. She latched onto the smell of Gretta's hair - hints of yoma, human, and grass, but mostly dirt. Solid, inedible dirt. The remembered smell seemed real - too real for a recollection. Sabrina turned and saw Gretta walking toward her, cloaked in grey and brown so that she blended in with her surroundings.

"I think he was the only one," Gretta said. "Hey, you look keyed up, and your face is soaked. You okay?"

"I'm fine. I could use a bath now though."

Gretta beamed. "Follow me. I already figured out the way."

Gretta took off into the maze, and Sabrina followed, trying to steady herself. She'd have to be careful around humans now - avoid them entirely if possible. Since she didn't like them anyway, that might not be a problem until they returned to Rabona.

"Here we are," Gretta said. "The long awaited place of baths!"

She flung her arms wide, as if showing off the grand hall of a cathedral. They were at the end of a tributary canyon, surrounded on three sides by cliffs, one of which had a waterfall's smoothness, though it was dry at the moment. At the base of the cliff glimmered a still pool. The water must have been stagnant since the last snowmelt, yet it was clear - Sabrina could see moss at the bottom. It really did look like an excellent bathing place. She stripped and waded in. It was deliciously freezing. A warrior's body didn't react to temperature much, but she still noticed when she plunged into water that was almost ice. She almost slipped on the moss twice as she walked deeper, and on the third slip, she let her feet slide and splashed under the surface. A minute later, she stood and glanced around for Gretta. The redhead was sitting on a rock by the water's edge, her curls flipping as she looked away.

"Gretta,"

Gretta turned as if she'd just noticed Sabrina was there. "Yeees?"

"Just three hours ago, you threw a fit about wanting a bath, and now you're just going to sit on a rock?"

"Yeppers."

". . . Mind telling me why?"

"Sure. The first generation's stigmatas don't smell very strong, and we're not human enough to get much body odor either, so we really don't have to bathe much at all unless we get muddy or something."

"And your code of baths?"

"You, on the other hand, smell mysteriously, uncannily, _exactly_ like an awakened being, and that smell got stronger every day without a bath. Catalina seems to have a bad sense of smell, thank the goddesses, but even she was going to notice before long, and I reeeally don't want to know how she would react if she realized what your scent reminded her of."

Sabrina bent to wash her stigmata, blushing because, apparently, she was a smelly person. She had to admit that without Gretta's help, she wouldn't have considered the possibility that Catalina might smell her secret.

"Thanks," Sabrina said.

"Oh, not at all. Think of it as _my_ thanks to _you_ , for carrying my stuff and aaalso for all the difficult things I plan on putting you through from now on. And don't bother asking what those things will be. I won't tell you."

Sabrina rinsed the last of the crusted blood out of her stigmata and sank down in the water to let it soak. "That reminds me," she said. "You were going to tell me how you won the argument with Catalina."

"Ah right. The first thing to understand is that it's really too strong to say that I won an argument against her. She knew from the start that I was right, tactically. So instead of arguing against _all_ of Catalina, I only had to help one side of her internal debate, though even that is hard once a person's made up her mind. It's muuuch better to persuade people before they make a decision. But, because Catalina is all strong and silent, it's hard to tell when she's in the early part of a decision, so I prepared for difficult arguments by being suuuper obnoxious."

"Wouldn't she respect your points less if you're insufferable?" Sabrina asked.

"Yep, with most people that's how it is, but you have to deal with everyone in their own way, you know? For Catalina, it's obvious she sees the world in black and white. She's the kind of girl who respects people who share her code, but that means people she respects don't really influence her - as soon as they do anything other than reinforce her beliefs, they lose respect. So, when preparing to be on Catalina's team, I knew I'd need to piss her off, but if I seemed _too_ evil she'd just kill me. She really is dangerous like that; she kills a lot of warriors. In the end, I decided to piss her off by being childish - which is part of my personality anyway - because it's hard to interpret immaturity as evil, but it's frustrating enough that I could manipulate Catalina by raising and lowering the intensity. For Catalina, who wants to sort everyone into good and evil, someone who's aggravating but not evil hurts her brain, and being able to hurt your opponent's brain is really important in an argument, you know? She thinks warriors should be all stoic and frowny like she is, so when I act crazy, her mind tells her to make me act like a warrior should. In the argument earlier, I made sure to be obnoxious long enough to get her desperate, so that when I switched to arguing reasonably for a while, she felt like she'd won something, and that feeling of winning made it easier for her to surrender points with her pride intact. And that's juuust about it. Beyond that, I was stalling for time so her emotional mind that wanted to kill the yoma would calm down. I cooould tell you about giving her outs and stuff, but you look unsettled from just that much," she giggled.

Sabrina tossed her hair tie toward the rest of her equipment, letting her hair fall loose for washing. "You bet I'm unsettled. If you put that much thought into outwitting Catalina, I can't help but wonder how many weeks of research you spent targeting my weaknesses. I've never even heard of you before. I feel underprepared."

"Weeell, I won't tell you mooost of what I've figured out about you, but I'll tell you a tiny bit, just to tease you." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "You're the kind of person who will like me more if you know I'm manipulating you."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Gretta said. "Are you doubting my guess? I am wrong pretty often, so please tell me if I am so I can change my strategy."

Sabrina opened her mouth, but Gretta held up a finger to stop her.

"Buuut, think about it carefully first. I don't want to know what you _want_ to think about yourself, I want to know what's really true about Yoma Blood Sabrina."

Sabrina turned away to think, and decided to wash her hair in the meantime. She dunked her head underwater, but when she straightened her hair hung over her face, so she dipped down again and sprang upright, her hair flipping in an arc over her head to strike the water behind her. She combed it gently with her fingers while she thought. She was fairly sure she didn't like being manipulated, though she'd never really thought about it before. Regardless, that wasn't precisely the question. She'd been asked whether she liked Gretta more knowing that Gretta was trying to manipulate her. Sabrina glanced back at the redhead, who was watching her with a dazed expression. Certainly, Gretta was more interesting as a manipulator, and it showed that her childishness was at least somewhat deliberate. Sabrina turned away to dunk her head again. She supposed that, if she was going to be manipulated, she would rather know it was coming. That made it seem more like a competition or an eccentric way of making friends rather than a deception.

"Sabrina!" Gretta said.

Sabrina whirled. A few paces from the edge of the pool, metal armor blurred with speed.

"Catch!" Gretta said.

Sabrina's claymore spun toward her, but the blur was faster, stabbing the sword in midair. The clash of metal on metal was deafening. Sabrina's sword slammed into a cliff, ejecting a half dozen boulders which began to plummet. Sabrina tried to leap for her Carnage boots, but her feet slipped on the moss, and she fell into the water. Releasing thirty percent yoki for speed, she jerked upright and had just enough time to glimpse a bare left hand reaching for her heart. The tip of a claymore hovered between the thumb and index finger, the armored right hand that held the sword was poised far back, ready to thrust. With no footing to sidestep, Sabrina began to twist out of the way, but the thrust was faster. It was a silver flash in the moonlight - a vicious hiss in the air.

A jolt ran through Sabrina as her arm spun away, severed, slinging blood. Instinctively, Sabrina had parried with her left arm at the last instant. A stinging line across her ribs told her some of the attack had struck home anyway, but she had no time to look at the wound - a second thrust was flashing toward her face. This time, she was ready; she slapped the flat of the blade with all her strength. The hiss tore past her ear, wind blasting her cheek. In that heartbeat, Sabrina saw an opening. The thrust was fully extended, the gauntleted hand close. One lunge, and Sabrina's claws could be at her attacker's throat. Instead, she surged into deeper water. Yes She could have attacked, but on the moss, the probability that she would slip was too high. Against the silver thrust, tripping within its range would be instant death.

Sabrina caught her severed arm from the air and pressed it painfully against her stump, laughter bubbling up inside her as the boulders that had broken off the canyon wall crashed against the ground.

At the edge of the water, Comrade Killer Catalina stood resplendent in her fury, her jaw clenched hard as metal, her eyes bright as molten steel. The armor on her right was silver in the moonlight; the hair on her left shone gold.

Sabrina laughed as her own blood rained down around her. Or was it the god inside her that laughed? When the yoki was in her blood, the line between god and warrior faded. "That was the fastest thing I've ever seen!" She said. "But isn't it still too slow? If I can slap it aside, there's no way it would get you into the single digits. Ah, let me guess, the moss ruined your footwork? Ahahahaha, that's good! The real thrust must be twice - three times as fast! I want to see it," she slipped into the deepest part of the pool, where the water reached her chin, "but I don't think I'll come out unless you throw me my sword and boots."

"Silence murderer," Catalina said. "You will get nothing but death from me."

"Murderer?" Sabrina asked.

"A human lies on the mountain, cloven by a warrior's sword. Your claymore is stained with red blood - human blood. Do you deny it?"

"No, I killed him. Since awakened beings can disguise themselves as humans, it's best to assume every human you encounter near the lair of an awakened being is an enemy until you test it by checking whether it transforms into yoma when it's dead."

"A warrior who thinks that is just a yoma with the wrong color of eyes."

Catalina took her stance, her left foot forward, her left hand splayed toward Sabrina, her right arm poised to thrust. Carefully, she edged into the pool. Sabrina had never fought in water before, but she guessed that Catalina hadn't either. They wouldn't know who the terrain favored until the fight began. What Sabrina _did_ know - what she hid under her hand - was that her severed arm was already reattached. It seemed her yoki was more potent now that the god was with her. Probably not potent enough to overcome Catalina's armor, sword, and lightning fast stab though.

"Excuuuse me Catalina," Gretta said. "Are you sure what you're doing makes sense?"

"Unquestionably. You will answer for this attempt to save her once she's dead."

The redhead laughed nervously. "If you think about it though, you can't really kill her, caaan you? I mean, her personality is already just like an awakened being's. Someone like her won't die with her human mind just because she's supposed to."

"She will not have time to consider it!" Catalina said.

Sabrina ducked underwater as Catalina lunged. Bubbles flew past Sabrina's eyes, but she could still see Catalina's boot slip as it landed. Between that and the water resistance, the thrust was slow. Sabrina almost managed to snatch the sword before Catalina backed off.

Sabrina surfaced. "So slow! If your technique was any worse in water, I would have killed you barehanded just now."

"Do not pretend you are faring any better," Catalina said.

"Yes yes, you are both compleeetely useless in there. Do you see what I mean, fearless leader? You can't kill her before she awakens, and when she _does_ awaken, if she's not strong enough to crush us outright, she can just scurry up the cliffs and go join the awakened ones in Sutafu."

Catalina paused, water dripping from her armor. "I cannot allow a murderer to survive."

"The choice isn't between Sabrina living or Sabrina dying, but between Sabrina living as a murderer or as a full fledged awakened being," Gretta said. "Oh, and if she's an awakened being, you can bet she'll warn the awakened in Sutafu about us."

Catalina stood frozen in her stance, glaring as though her molten eyes could incinerate Sabrina. The only sounds were the slow plink of water dripping from Catalina's armor and the grinding of Catalina's teeth. Eventually, Sabrina drifted a few steps back and calmed her yoki. She could resummon it instantly if she needed to, but, for the moment, Catalina seemed to be. . . well. . . nonfunctional.

"Oh III get it," Gretta said. "Telling Sabrina you won't kill her is impossible for you, but so is creating an awakened being, so you're stuck, Am I right? Here, I'll make it easy for you - leave. You don't have to talk, just walk away. Find me in the morning and I'll guide you through Sutafu like we planned. I'll be guiding Sabrina too, but just because you're both following me doesn't mean you're on a team, okay?"

Silence followed Gretta's words. Catalina held her stance a minute longer, and then retreated down the canyon.

"Oh sweet goddesses," Gretta said, "that was terrifying. Please tell me most fighting isn't that scary - I thought my heart would pop."

"I thought mine was about to get run through. Do you think I could've won though, in the deep water?"

Gretta snorted. "No. She had a sword you know."

"I have claws."

"yeees, but neither of you could move fast without slipping, so how would you get past her sword? You couldn't even attack one time in that fight. Such a bad showing for a top fifty."

"Hey, I was on bad footing you know, _and_ unarmed _and_ naked."

"So?"

Sabrina splashed Gretta from six paces away. The redhead sputtered, but soon recovered and turned up her nose, which was dripping.

"Hmph," Gretta said.

"You're not going to fight back?"

"Do you really think I'm fool enough to get into a physical competition with someone like you? Besides, it's fine that you got me wet. I'm getting in anyway."

"I thought you didn't need to bathe that often."

"Well that's true," she said, undoing the ties on the back of her dress, "but I espeeecially don't need to bathe when I think an enraged single digit might come charging in trying to kill people."

"You knew she was coming?"

"I didn't _know_ she was coming. I mean, the chance that she would find that man's body was pretty low, but I knew it was possible, which kind of ruined my bath mood. I didn't warn you because it prooobably wasn't going to happen, and warning you definitely would've made you suspicious of her."

"Speaking of Catalina," Sabrina said, "what's the long term plan for her? I wouldn't be surprised if she tries to kill me next time we meet."

Gretta stepped into the bushes to hang her wet clothes. "Yyyep, that will probably happen. If it does, how long can you last against her?"

"Carnage makes me tough to hit, but if I attack her, my position will be predictable and she'll run me through. Eventually, she'll win because she can stab forever, whereas my muscles will rip if I use Carnage too much."

"That sounds plenty good," Gretta said. "Catalina knows she's got to kill you instantly or not at all, so if you dodge a stab or two she'll back off. Oh that reminds me, you're probably hungry from healing that arm, right? Want a banana? Or maybe some peas?"

Sabrina was ravenous, but only for guts. She supposed she should at least try to eat normal food.

"Is there any smoked turkey left?" She asked.

"Of course. No one has touched it because turkey is gross. Have you seen their necks? Ugh."

The familiar sound of Gretta rummaging through her pots and boulders came from the bushes, and then she emerged with an apple in one hand and a turkey drumstick in the other. She looked much like Sabrina had imagined she would. Without the lean muscles most warriors developed, Gretta was delicate. Freckles spilled from her collarbones, and her stigmata was one of the experimental, less invasive patterns from the first generation, the incisions curving up either side of her fragile ribs. She had a few hair-thin scars on her neck, but they looked older, and Sabrina found herself wondering how such a tender throat had survived being cut at all.

"Relax, will you?" Gretta said. "It's just turkey, even if it is gross. I didn't poison it or anything."

"It's not that. You just look frailer than your personality makes you seem."

"And you're short. Have some turkey."

The redhead thrust the drumstick into Sabrina's arms, and attempted to balance on one foot in order to eat the apple with one hand while she washed her toes with the other. She slipped, but didn't seem to care - she just swam in place while she ate. Sabrina took two bites of the turkey before handing it back to Gretta, and then ducked under the surface to rinse off the blood from her fight with Catalina. As soon as she came back up, a cold wave smacked her in the face.

"Ha!" Gretta said. "I might not be fool enough to get into a physical competition with you, but I can always just wait till you're not paying attention."

"Competition is too gentle a word for what's about to happen to you, missy," Sabrina said.

Gretta dove underwater to escape justice, but Sabrina dragged her up by one arm and splashed her point blank until the redhead begged for mercy and complained that the turkey was getting soaked.

"I thought you hated turkey," Sabrina said.

"I do, but the longer it lasts, the longer until I have to share my leeemons."

On the promise that Gretta's surrender was both unconditional and permanent, Sabrina released her. They stowed the drumstick on a rock at the water's edge, and got down to scrubbing out a week's worth of road grit, chatting idly about what they'd done for Cataclysm Day in the meantime. Relaxed talk was rare for warriors, so Sabrina took her time washing, and after their Cataclysm stories ran out they swapped trainee stories, which were radically different between the first and fourth generations.

When they were clean and their clothes were washed, the only thing left to work on was Sabrina's hair, since there was so much of it and it tended to get muddy at the tips. They combed through it together, growing quiet as the night deepened, the water reflecting the moon with barely a ripple. By the time they finished, Gretta's arms had goosebumps from the cold.

"I've been thinking," Sabrina said, "about whether I'll like you better if you manipulate me."

"And?"

"You saved me from Catalina. Look out for me like that, and I don't mind helping you too. If you call that manipulation, then manipulate me all you want."

Gretta nodded, beaming.

"I'm going to regret saying that, aren't I?" Sabrina said.

"You won't," Gretta said.

The redhead pulled her into a hug. Sabrina stiffened. She was used to defending her chest against attackers aiming for her vitals. To have someone's body, even Gretta's delicate body, pressed against her, was alarming. Gretta hesitated, but didn't let go, and Sabrina gradually warmed to the gentle pressure of Gretta's arms and the brush of Gretta's cheek. It was a simple kind of communication, to pull a person as near as they could be and hold them there. It said _I want you close to me_. Though Sabrina had never tried it, she understood it now, so she placed her hands on Gretta's back and pulled until she felt their heartbeats overlap.

They stayed like that a long time, just breathing as the water grew still around them. Finally, Gretta began shivering from the cold.

"Bundle up and sleep," Sabrina said. "I'll keep watch for Catalina tonight."

They parted, and soon Gretta was snoring while Sabrina prowled in the night.


	5. Dietrich

_Ten weeks later. It has taken all Gretta's finesse to keep her companions from each other's throats. Meanwhile, Sabrina and Gretta have become fast friends._

The wind roared in Sabrina's ears. Grit stung her eyes. Though darkness was no impediment to warriors, the clouds of windblown dust were physical, so they blinded Sabrina, reducing the jagged-toothed ridges to brown silhouettes. This was the heart of Sutafu; the land was shredded as if by titans' claws, raked so deeply that Sabrina thought it might bleed.

Gretta's voice sounded distant in the wind, though her silhouette walked right beside Sabrina. "We're aaalmost to the leader's aura! Get ready to do your killing mojo, alright?"

Sabrina glanced at the hazy blob that was Catalina marching ten paces away. Catalina'd been seething since the bath fight. Every evening she practiced her thrust while, on the other side of camp, Sabrina trained in an old word technique called the strong sword. When a pair of lesser awakened had the misfortune of finding them, Catalina's pent up fury exploded, and she slaughtered the stronger one in a single blow. The other suffered alive for a time, Sabrina trying and failing to sate her gut-hunger with its putrid flesh.

"There!" Gretta said. "Between the spires on the left, that's her!"

Sabrina shielded her eyes and saw a warrior-sized shadow dashing away on the ridge above. Sabrina dropped her pack and charged. The figure was fast, but the stone underfoot was perfect for Carnage, and Sabrina gained quickly, cresting the ridge.

A spike whizzed past her chest. She zig-zagged through a storm of projectiles from half a dozen monstrous shapes. Catalina crested the ridge and sped after the leader without even a glance at the spike throwers. It was the correct decision. As a duelist, Catalina had a better chance against the leader, while Sabrina's Carnage was ideal against groups of awakened beings.

Sabrina rushed the awakened. She'd never kill all six, but she might keep them too busy to to save their leader.

Claws raced to meet her, extending from upraised hands. Sabrina spun in a Carnage pattern too fast for their aim, her sword hissing as it sheared through armored fingers, blood flying with grit in the air.

She hit twenty percent yoki.

The awakened surrounded her. Their constant attacks pushed Carnage to its limits. Her muscles ached, her shin bones creaking on the sharp turns. She had to narrow her eyes to slits as Carnage shoved her through the air face first, faster and faster and _faster_.

Forty percent.

She saw an opening and leapt, swinging. With a clang, her sword rebounded off an awakened being's cheek, the hilt buzzing in her grip. The monster fell back, and Sabrina realized that she was in midair with no footing for Carnage. The opening had been a trap. She curled into a ball, holding her claymore so it covered her spine, heart, and head from behind. Projectile spikes ripped through her. Something slammed into her sword and sent her flying. She glimpsed the ground careening closer and extended a leg for Carnage, but a massive hand snatched her ankle. That was their critical mistake. Twisting, Sabrina hacked off the hand and dropped the short distance to the ground, rolling into a crouch. With no time to assess her wounds, she let her yoki follow the pain, healing.

Fifty percent - the god in her chest stirred.

Claws and limbs flew at her - smudges through her slitted eyes. She forced one eye wide. The attacks were too numerous, too fast. She might survive a while by dodging, but she'd never get an opening beyond the one she had right now, as she stood at the feet of a monster reeling from the loss of its hand. Therefore, no matter how much damage she took for ignoring defense, it was time to attack. Accelerating sharply, Sabrina rammed her claymore into the guts of the wounded monster and dragged the blade through its torso.

The Strong Sword relied on building force by cutting through tough material, usually the ground, but in this case, awakened flesh. Sabrina's muscles bulged unnaturally as her blade ripped free of the awakened's body and arced out with a _thrum_. Mid-swing, she activated Carnage charge one of the awakened. He blocked with both arms.

It didn't matter.

The blow hit with the sound of splitting rock. The awakened screamed as both of his arms spun away, his body gaping from throat to knee. Chunks of his armor skittered across the ground. Sabrina's arms ached from the impact, but she plunged her blade into the ground for another Strong Sword.

Something slammed into her shoulder, and her feet left the ground. The jagged ridges flipped in her vision, upside down, right side up, and then she hit something, hard, and her vision went black. At first she thought she'd lost consciousness, but no, wind still raked her skin. She tried to stand, unleashing yoki to heal her eyes, but collapsed.

Sixty percent.

She groaned. She couldn't tell which hurt worse - her smashed shoulder, punctured torso, or the eye she'd forced open before Carnage charging through gritty wind. She focused yoki into the other eye, and her her vision returned as a brown blur. Shapes moved a hundred paces off - four awakened beings, rushing to finish her.

Sabrina snarled. She loosed her hold on the god, and her blood pulsed with power, her pain melting into intoxication.

Seventy percent. She was more god than warrior.

 _Do these awakened truly think they can fight Army Killer Sabrina?_

She surged to her feet. No matter how many of them there were, they were only yoma in the end. She tried to raise her sword, but her arm wouldn't move. Glancing down, she saw that her shoulder was crushed, caved into her ribcage. Bones stuck out through her uniform. She looked around for her claymore, and saw it on the ground near the awakened beings. The human part of her reassessed her chances of victory at zero.

 _Wrong,_ the god said. _Unleash more, and we will win._

Even the god had to know that wasn't true.

 _You don't know your own power. Ninety percent, and we'll reach our sword instantly and slaughter the yoma in a blood frenzy, laughing. You're skittish about using eighty percent, but you came back from it in Alfons, and you can do it again. You should consider one hundred percent your point of no return now._

 _Nice try,_ the human side thought.

 _If you won't use our power, there's only one way to survive._

Sabrina scowled, but she knew the god was correct.

She fled, staggering downhill, lightheaded - she'd lost a lot of blood. Hazily, she noticed she was falling, sliding down the slope into the rocks at the bottom. What a miserable place to die, in the trough between ridges that gave no shelter from the damned wind.

She released seventy percent. It wasn't enough to recover fully, but it helped. Standing, she ran down the trough, barely faster than a trainee. A backward glance showed the awakened farther away than expected. Two followed her; two ran the ridges on either side, preventing her from turning one way or the other. Strange. To get on either side like that, an awakened must have passed her peacefully while she was dazed. Sabrina varied her speed experimentally, and the awakened matched her pace.

 _They're herding me._

She slowed to a walk. If they were matching her pace, she wasn't going to waste energy running. She'd need all her strength to heal her shoulder before the wound became permanent, and even in her most optimistic predictions she'd have scars where the spikes pierced her. That said, it was optimistic in the first place to think she'd live to worry about healing.

The trough turned, and Sabrina saw a shape in the gloom ahead, the size of a hill, but with spires breaking up its silhouette. As she neared it, the terrain grew treacherous; she hopped over trenches so deep that even her golden eyes could not see the bottom. Gravel and sand crunched underfoot as though the stone itself had been pulverized. Everywhere, the rock was black.

The silhouettes of the awakened on either side halted. Sabrina looked back; the two behind her had stopped as well. Apparently they'd reached their destination, leaving Sabrina nowhere to go but into the shadow. She hesitated. If the awakened wanted her to go forward, then going forward was the last thing she should do. Not that she had a choice.

She pressed on through the wind. Slowly, the shadow became a building of charred stones, pitted with dark holes that must have been doorways and windows long ago. Like the landscape around it, the ruin was gouged and crushed in places.

She entered through a gash in the wall, dusting grit from her face as the wind fell away. The room inside was strewn with bones, the floor textured with layer upon layer of bloodstains too old to smell. At first Sabrina thought it was an awakened feeding ground, but such a room would smell mouthwatering. These remains were older - a remnant of Cataclysm. Bones cracked under her feet as she walked deeper through winding corridors, the howl of wind fading to silence. Maybe if she found a side way out, she could slip off into the wilderness.

She reached a broad chamber. Muddy light seeped through windows along one wall, casting long shadows behind the pillars and bones. A row of obsidian thrones curved along the back wall, and on the centermost throne sat a warrior, her face half shadowed. Sabrina stared. What the hell was a warrior doing here? The woman looked back at Sabrina, sitting stiffly, her back not touching the throne. Her hair was bound into tails on either side of her head, and she wore a uniform with no helmet or breastplate, like one of the uniforms in stained glass at the cathedral.

Oh.

It was an old world uniform.

 _Oh._

"You're from the Cataclysm," Sabrina said.

"Yes. I am Dietrich, the Eye of Miria."

Surreality flooded through Sabrina. Even _she'd_ heard that name before. Dietrich, mentor of Lily, Asher, and Necis, sitting in front of Sabrina - awakened - just another yoma.

Sabrina sneered. "All those stories about your loyalty, but in the end you couldn't even send a black card. Pathetic."

"You understand nothing," Dietrich said. "Before I knew what awakening was, I would have done anything to avoid it. But I lost my legs and reached my limit simultaneously. Not all warriors can choose whether to awaken or not. For some, it's inevitable."

The god within smiled.

"I only regret that Miria and the others died," Dietrich said. "If I hadn't resisted my yoki, I could have awakened fast enough to help them awaken too. I failed in my duty to Miria, and she died as a result."

Sabrina ground her teeth. It was Raurek all over again - a yoma _daring_ to pretend that it was a person. Dietrich didn't have the same heart or mind she had when she was a warrior, no matter how she talked. She was a gut eating monster, _nothing_ but a gut eating monster, and Sabrina would rip her head off. Feverishly, she started calculating. The odds were impossible, but Sabrina didn't care. The yoma had to die.

"So what," Sabrina said, "we're going to fight now that your minions beat me half to death? Coward."

"I did not gather an army of awakened by killing warriors. Rather, it is my duty as an awakened being to awaken my comrades. I apologize for having my soldiers wound you. From now on, I won't hurt you. You have my word."

"Give it up. I'm not joining your yoma army."

"I won't ask you to. Once you awaken, you can choose whether to stay or leave, and if you stay, I will follow you. I can tell by your yoki that you are stronger than I was as a warrior, and you'll surpass me again as an awakened being. It is the way of the awakened for the strongest to lead."

"I'm never going to awaken."

Dietrich frowned. "I'm surprised you're so resistant. It should be obvious to you - you have already mostly awakened."

"No - awakening is all or nothing. You're either yoma or you aren't, and _I am not a yoma_."

"I have known several warriors who were half awakened. Phantom Miria was one of them."

I gave a shout of laughter.

"I do not lie," Dietrich said. "If I'm right, you went over eighty percent once."

"That. . . That doesn't prove-"

"After that, your yoki got stronger, and judging by your aura, you became much more yoma-like than previous half awakened ones. You must be starving."

Sabrina's brain scrambled for an explanation to dismiss the yoma's knowledge. She was hyperventilating, sweat prickling her forehead. Mostly awakened. Was she already lost?

Dietrich strode toward Sabrina, her metal boots cracking skulls and spines. She stopped two paces away and scrutinized Sabrina, up and down. "I wonder why you are closer to awakening than the half awakened ones I knew. There is a subtle difference in your yoki that most people would not detect, but I can sense it. Something familiar."

"I don't know!" Sabrina said. "I don't know what's happening to me." Should she have sent her black card already? Was she too late? "I don't know anything anymore."

"Hmm. I recognize where I've felt that aura. Is your name Sabrina?"

Sabrina flinched.

"I thought so," Dietrich said. "I met you the day after your birth. You were the unthinkable child - one eighth yoma. When they made you a warrior, you must have become two thirds yoma, and now you are two thirds awakened. Why haven't you awakened yet? The urge must be strong."

Sabrina scanned the room's walls, looking for weaknesses. The only plan she'd thought of that could kill Dietrich was to collapse the ruin on them both. It should be possible - the structure was already falling apart. If there was a cracked load bearing pillar, she could ram into it with Carnage. . .

"If you're like most warriors," Dietrich said, "there's a childhood experience that makes you hate yoma, but you haven't found out yet that the experience was deliberately set up by the organization. It's the organization that makes yoma in the first place."

Sabrina's attention snapped back to Dietrich's half shadowed face.

"It's true," Dietrich said. "If you search the Cathedral of Miria or torture their senior members, you can find more than enough evidence. You have probably heard a version of the story about Commander Miria destroying the old organization. Maybe you heard that Organization's leaders had become corrupt, or that she purged the yoma and the Organization dissolved because it was no longer needed, but the truth is that the Organization was corrupt from the start, and the new Organization is the same. If Captain Miria was alive, she would attack the Cathedral of Miria just like she attacked this ruin in the days when it housed the Organization. Only, she isn't alive because of me, so it's _my_ duty to destroy it this time, and I want your help."

In her memory, Sabrina heard the creak of a door opening - saw black cloaked men framed by wavering candlelight. She remembered hands prying her fetal curl open and teeth sinking into her guts.

Sabrina's hatred flared with the yoki in her blood. As a trainee, she'd assumed many groups wore black, and the Organization's use of dark robes didn't mean they were the men from her memory. But she'd never seen black cloaks in Alfons, she'd never seen them in Toulouse, and now she'd heard two ancient creatures accuse the Organization of creating yoma. If it was true, Sabrina had been eating the wrong species' guts.

She covered her mouth, feeling ill. Her entire life was based on hating yoma. Worse, she'd fought for the Organization - perhaps for the same men from her memory. If this was true. . . If this was true there was no _possible_ revenge cruel enough for them.

 _We can kill them,_ the god whispered, and she felt its voice vibrate in her blood. _Gretta has the suppressants Raki sent with you. Use them to hide until the single digits leave for war, and when you awaken, no one left will have the strength to stop you._

No, there wasn't enough evidence. There could be other groups of black clad men in Lautrec or Mucha. There were dozens of towns there she hadn't explored. Or, the men could be well hidden in places she'd lived for years. The accusation that the Organization made yoma had come from creatures who hated the Organization. It could be propaganda from the old days that Raurek and Dietrich had both heard and decided to reuse.

Sabrina clenched her teeth. After a lifetime of certainty, indecision was almost physically painful.

"Can I count on you?" Dietrich asked.

". . . I don't know. . . I'm trying to think."

"Follow me while you think. I want to show you something."

Dietrich walked past her. Choosing whether to follow was a struggle, but Dietrich could just drag her if she refused, so she kept pace a few steps behind. Thinking furiously, she barely noticed the twisting corridors strewn with broken rock, the steps descending into deeper darkness where the only light oozed from her own yellow eyes. It was cold down here, the silence thick. At the end of a hallway, Dietrich opened a metal door and gestured Sabrina inside.

Sabrina entered, and a scent roused her from her thoughts. Sweet and rich - the aroma of human blood. Automatically, she looked for the source. She was in a cavern. Terraces rose on either side, lined with barred cells, and in the darkest corner of every cell, a human cowered. Sabrina's feet moved on their own. She leapt up two terraces, her hands reaching for a cell door. The girl inside turned her face to the wall, curling up as if she could protect her guts. Sabrina paused. She should be resisting this. She should leave.

 _Why?_ the god said. _We might not hate yoma anymore._

But Sabrina _did_ hate yoma. It was impossible to be uncertain about hatred. Sabrina hated yoma, she _hated_ them. She just wasn't sure that she always would. Her hand trembled against the roughness of the bars. She was clammy with sweat, and her nausea lingered. The hunger had grown for months now, and with her hatred as confused as it was. . .

Dietrich opened the cell door, the metal screeching.

"There's little you can do to stop your instincts," Dietrich said. "I have heard some of the abyssal ones of old could go years without food, but even awakened, you will not be abyssal."

Dietrich entered the cell and kicked the girl's shoulder, throwing her against the wall. Sabrina heard bones crack. Before the girl could curl up again, Dietrich's index finger lashed out, opening the girl's midsection. The girl screamed and curled to hold her guts in, but the smell slipped out, stronger than Sabrina had ever smelled it - not the aroma of blood - that was nothing compared to this. The scent of guts filled Sabrina's nostrils. Hot - shooting to her brain. She inhaled desperately, pulling more of it into her lungs. It buzzed inside her. Hummed. Her mouth gaped as she exhaled to make room for another breath. She sniffed slowly this time, savoring the flavor as it trickled through her sinuses. Her feet were moving, her hatred forgotten as she pried the girl's arms away from her stomach. Sabrina shuddered, disgusted at herself. Or was it a shiver of anticipation?

Her tongue reached through chill air into warm guts. This is what her tongue was _made_ for. She nestled her mouth into the wound and feasted. The girl's guts were sweeter than blood, and infinitely more satisfying. Sabrina was smiling uncontrollably. She felt her victim's flesh tremble as the girl sobbed. Sabrina wept too, though she couldn't tell if they were tears of joy or despair. She was feeling too much to know. The only part of herself she understood was her yoki, which boiled in her blood, exultant, _growing_.

Seventy five percent.

Sabrina jerked back, spilling guts across the floor. Her shoulder was healing, her yoki nearing eighty. She crawled away to lean against the bars. Only once before had her yoki activated on its own - when Ordrun was manipulating her aura.

"Dietrich!" She said. "Stop it! If you force me to awaken, I'll kill you!"

"It's not me," Dietrich said. "Feeding gives your yoma side enough energy to conquer your human mind. You're going to awaken now."

"No, I still hate yoma. I _absolutely_ will not awaken!"

But her yoki was boiling out of control, and with her hatred conflicted, she couldn't return after eighty percent like she'd done in Alfons. She had to stop before that. Pressing her forehead against the bars, she concentrated, but it felt like trying to turn on ice with no Carnage spikes. Her hatred and humanity were useless. She racked her brain for a reason to stop herself.

On the edge of eighty percent, she found a memory - a mountain pool reflecting moonlight with barely a ripple, Gretta's arms wrapped around Sabrina's shoulders, Gretta's fragile ribs pressed against hers, their heartbeats overlapping. The whole trip, Catalina had been dying to run them through, but Sabrina had felt more relaxed than ever before, and when it was Gretta's turn to keep watch, Sabrina slept without one eye open. Whatever they had between them, Sabrina wanted more of it.

 _So awaken her too,_ the god said.

But that was impossible. Colorheads were too flimsy to withstand awakening. When they reached one hundred percent, they shattered. If Sabrina awakened, things would be like they were before Gretta. She would walk, she would kill, and nothing else - An existence with no meaning beyond revenge.

Sabrina exhaled slowly. She focused on a day two weeks ago, when the winds had been gentle and the sun shone white. To pass the time marching, she and Gretta had made up stories. Silly stories, stupid stories. It was just an excuse to talk. Gretta had talked with her hands when she tried to describe a character with a bald spot.

The glow from Sabrina's eyes went out.

"How unusual," Dietrich said. "You stopped yourself."

"it gets easier with practice," Sabrina said dryly.

Dietrich frowned, rubbing her chin. "I want you to awaken, but I won't force you."

"How kind of you."

"It's not kindness. It would be a problem if you held a grudge through your awakening. I'll even let you go, but only if you swear to investigate the Organization and return here if you survive."

"Next time I'm in Rabona, I'll investigate the _shit_ out of the Organization. I'll come back here too - probably to take your head. Our failure to kill you hurts my pride as a warrior."

"Acceptable," Dietrich said. "Try not to die on the mainland."

"So you know about the war," Sabrina said.

"Of course. The asarakam are a threat to me as well, so I let the Organization's army pass through in peace. If my enemies wish to battle each other, I won't stop them."

Dietrich walked away, leaving Sabrina alone with her victim's corpse. Sabrina shuddered. She'd thought it many times - a yoma was a person who ate guts.

Her hatred turned inward.

Sabrina was a yoma.


	6. Before the Storm

_Sabrina, Gretta, and Catalina each made it to the rendezvous, and the army sailed east. . ._

Gretta was scared.

Reading emotions through yoki auras was supposed to be tough. You were supposed to have to factor in body language and expressions to get a good picture, but ever since they'd run into Dietrich, Sabrina's aura had been way too easy to read because it gushed despair, and none of Gretta's manipulation, yoki or normal, helped for long. Gretta had never tried to cheer anyone up before meeting Sabrina, but she was pretty sure simple bad moods weren't this _sticky_. Worse, Sabrina hadn't talked to her about it even though they'd been attached at the hip for, what, four months now?

At the moment, Gretta didn't need yoki to tell something was wrong. Sabrina's face was flat against the table in the main cabin, her arms covering her head and a half full bottle in one hand - not a good pose for a strategy meeting. Other warriors were crowded around the table, their auras a mesh of anticipation; the top three would be here any minute. Across the table, Catalina stood with her arms crossed, aura rising. From the way she was glaring at Sabrina, Gretta was pretty sure she was calculating how much more Sabrina had to drink before getting weak enough to be easily killed. Gretta tugged on Catalina's yoki, but it wouldn't budge. Catalina's focus was iron.

The door creaked, and the big wigs filed in. First, number three, Leah of a Thousand Links, who wore no armor but carried a chain wrapped around her, the links clicking as she moved. Number two followed, Addis the Assassin, who had bulging muscles that she relied on instead of yoki. Rumor had it she'd hidden her aura since her trainee days, and killed her targets before they saw her. And finally, number one, Divine Cleaver Cassiopeia, whose technique Gretta and the others from the research division had been trying to figure out for years. Basically, she could cut _anything_. Well, except claymore metal, but that stuff was invincible. Twelve narrow braids hung from her temples, mingling with the rest of her hair. Each represented an awakened being she'd killed, and her expression made it clear she meant to kill more. Gretta thought Cassiopeia would get along with Catalina.

Cassiopeia stood at the head of the table, fists on her hips. "Single digits, sit. Addis, lay out the charts. What's that on my table?"

Warriors crowded back to make way for Leah, who marched around the table and yanked Sabrina's head up by the ponytail. Sabrina snarled, aura flaring.

"Never seen her before," Leah said. "She's just a small fry I guess."

Sabrina attacked. The tussle was too fast for Gretta to track, but it ended with Sabrina pinned to the table, Leah's chain around her neck. Gretta's fists clenched. Sabrina was just drunk - there was no need to be rough with her. Gretta tapped Leah on the shoulder, giving her warmest smile as the number three rounded on her.

"What do you want, colorhead?" Leah said.

Gretta's first instinct was to cower and apologize. Leah's aura was massive and pissy, but after Catalina's zealot aura, Gretta felt she could handle anything. She gave Leah's yoki a calming tug, spreading her hands peacefully.

"Sorry sorry," Gretta said. "I'm supposed to be responsible for her, so it's my fault."

"That so?" Leah said.

"So, if you could maybe. . . stop choking her."

"Leah," Cassiopeia said.

Leah dropped Sabrina and took her place at Cassiopeia's left. Sabrina jerked to her feet, but Gretta soothed her friend's yoki, keeping her from attacking. Sabrina's mood was usually pretty easy to sway, and it got downright fluid after a few drinks.

"You'll come to the next meeting sober," Cassiopeia said. "For now, you're done. Get out."

Sabrina glared as she left. Gretta wanted to follow, but her influence here depended on Cassiopeia's respect, and if Gretta left, Cassiopeia would know she was following Sabrina, who'd just given the messiest first impression ever. Worse, Cassiopeia seemed like the type to judge quickly and permanently, so this meeting alone could decide whether Gretta got to manipulate the war from behind the scenes. For something that big, even Sabrina would have to wait.

Gretta tried to focus on the meeting - to feel the auras in the room so she knew what to say to gain influence, but Sabrina's aura seemed to wash over the others, tumultuous. Did that mean things were getting worse? What if Sabrina tried to drown her despair in yoki, and lost control because she was drunk? This was the worst possible time for Sabrina to start awakening - Leah and Catalina wouldn't wait to try and pull her back - they'd kill her and throw her body into the ocean.

Gretta chewed her thumbnail. She was being silly. Sabrina wouldn't awaken or kill herself in the next few hours. . . Right? Gretta tried to change the course of Sabrina's yoki, but as usual, the despair was sticky.

Someone asked Gretta a question. She tried to remember the context, but it was useless. She couldn't concentrate.

"Uuum," Gretta said. "Sorry, I'm feeling seasick. I think I should go before I throw up on the charts. Excuse me."

No one made way for a colorhead, so she had to squeeze between people, their auras scornful. She couldn't pick Cassiopeia's aura out of the tangle, but she was sure she'd left a bad impression. Slipping out, she shut the door silently behind her.

The sun was white outside, and not too warm. Gretta leaned against the cabin, sighing. So much for influence. Oh well, she'd have other chances. She looked toward the aura of despair and saw Sabrina sitting on the railing at the ship's edge, her back against a rigging rope. One leg hung over the ship's side while the other stretched along the railing, and her ponytail coiled on the deck.

Gretta liked these moments before Sabrina noticed her; once they were in a conversation, it would be weird if Gretta stared too long.

Even drunk, Sabrina looked alert as a coiled viper, her lithe muscles poised to strike. Her face was sharp, her eyes large, with irises such a light tint of silver that they were almost white, like nimbuses around her slitted pupils. Even a relaxed glance from Sabrina was intense as Catalina's death glare, and whenever Sabrina's eyes caught Gretta's, it was hard not to freeze like a rabbit transfixed, not out of fear, but from the way those eyes seemed to see the real Gretta stripped of manipulations, so that when Sabrina spoke or smiled, Gretta felt like those words and smiles were meant for Gretta's real self. They weren't, of course. There were still a few parts of herself Gretta had to hide, but it was nearly real, and Sabrina hadn't pushed her away after seeing most of her real self, and that felt amaaazing.

If Gretta couldn't manipulate Sabrina out of despair, all that would be lost. Taking a deep breath, Gretta walked up to her friend. Sabrina's yoki rippled, as it always did when she saw Gretta. It _felt_ like a happy sort of ripple, but Gretta wasn't sure, and if it was, Gretta had no idea if it represented familiarity or friendship or. . . something even better. Hopefully, it was the kind of ripple that would encourage her to give Gretta some answers, though Gretta was also going to come up with some brilliantly manipulative opener to get Sabrina to reveal the source of her despair. It would be a devious opener - subtle. . .

* * *

Sabrina was pretty sure the ship was rocking more than before. Sure, part of it was probably the booze, but it seemed to be swaying a _lot_. Sabrina scanned the other ships in the fleet to see if any of them were sinking or anything. A breeze touched her cheek, and amidst the salt of the sea air, she caught Gretta's scent. She turned and saw the redhead standing next to her.

"Uh," Gretta said, freezing. "I'm worried about you, so hurry up and tell me what's wrong, okay?"

"No."

"Just. . . no?"

"Yeah."

Gretta crossed her arms. "Like I'd give up that easily. Preeetty please tell me?"

Sabrina let her leg fall from the railing to hang over the side, turning her back on Gretta's worried face. Opening up to Gretta was out of the question, but she didn't want her friend to feel rejected, so she patted the railing, and Gretta sat beside her, tapping the hull with her boot heels in time with the ship's motion. Sabrina tried to gather her thoughts despite the haziness of booze.

"Look," Sabrina said. "It's not that I don't want to tell you."

"Don't feel bad about it," Gretta said. "I have secrets too you know, it's just hard for me to see you all gloomy and not even know why."

"It's just a mood. Are you worried because I've been drinking? I'm a warrior, so I'm not going to get hurt by it no matter how much I drink."

"Weeell, now that you mention it, Catalina _will_ kill you if you drink much more."

Sabrina took another swig.

"Can I?" Gretta asked, holding out her hand for the bottle.

Sabrina's eyes narrowed. "Too suspicious."

"I just want a sip. I promise not to smash it to keep you from drinking, so there's nothing to worry about at _all_. I'll guard the grog with my life."

Reluctantly, Sabrina handed over the bottle, and Gretta closed one eye to peer into it, gauging. She swirled it, took a deep breath, and threw her head back to drink. She coughed, spraying some of it over her chin, but kept going, gulp after gulp, her throat bobbing up and down until the entire bottle was gone. coughing, she set the bottle on the deck and wiped her mouth and streaming eyes.

"Ow," Gretta said, and fell into a fit of coughing, leaning against Sabrina, who thumped her back. When she finally recovered and wiped her eyes again, she swayed more than the ship.

"Theeere. I can do the. . . I can guard it real well now."

"Tell me you didn't metabolize all of that."

"Hmmmmmm? Oh, I didn't learned how to not metabolize that. . . stuff. . . booze. That's it."

"Are you alright?"

Gretta smiled. "I got a idea to make you cheered up. Here."

Gretta reached over to shake hands, gripped Sabrina's fingers, and toppled off the rail toward the water. Sabrina rammed her carnage spikes into the side of the ship and stood horizontally, holding Gretta above the waves.

"Oh come ooon. You're supposed to fall in and be all surprised," Gretta said, tugging Sabrina's arm as if she could dislodge her. "Follow me follow me."

"I can't swim."

"That doesn't matter when you're as strong as a yoooma. Come on and follow me."

Sabrina wasn't in the mood to do anything but sit and wait to get tired enough to sleep, but Gretta's pleading face was impossible to turn down, so Sabrina tossed her helm, pauldrons, and breastplate onto the deck and let herself plunge underwater. The cold and wet did a bit to clear her head. Opening her eyes, she saw the abyss yawning below, and realized how vast the ocean was - how black its depths. Anything could be lurking down there, and no one would know. If God was real, Sabrina doubted even his eyes could pierce that infinite darkness. A disaster could be brewing there, something strong enough to slice open the world and drink its molten blood, and the wars of surface dwellers wouldn't matter because everyone would be dead. Things like yoma belonged down there. Sabrina belonged down there. She wondered if she could sink deep enough to see what lay in the dark, but the need for air called her, so she turned her back on the abyss and surfaced next to Gretta.

"Now follow me," Gretta said, "and if you want to swim fast, watch how I do it. I'm really particularly especially good at swimming."

"Don't we need to stay with the ships?" Sabrina asked.

"Nooope. Ships are good if you're going a long way, but warriors are way faster. Here, watch."

They dove, and Gretta slid quickly through the murk. Sabrina copied her technique, shooting forward. She decided swimming was all about water resistance. With small size and great strength, warriors made ideal swimmers; as long as the ships were in sight, they'd be easy to chase down. A deep _thoom_ sounding with Sabrina's strokes, and when she caught up, Gretta smiled at her and pointed toward the surface. Gretta tried to say something, but it sounded like,

"blagsd."

Gretta giggled, and her laugh was full of bubbles. Beckoning, the redhead swam up and broke the surface at top speed, everything but her boots disappearing before she splashed down and swam in place on the surface. Sabrina let herself sink, and when she fell deep enough that the light began to fade, she shot upward. The surface raced closer, then fell away as she arced through the sunlight. For a heartbeat, she felt weightless. The breeze washed over her, and she breathed deep, smiling. She splashed down next to Gretta, who was laughing.

"That was awesome!" Gretta said. "If you can get that high, I wonder how high a single digit goes? Number two looks pretty strong you know."

"That Addis woman? She couldn't go as high as me."

"Oh reeeally?"

Sabrina bumped her forehead against Gretta's. "Reeeeeally," she said. "Muscles aren't worth the water resistance when you can use yoki instead."

"Is there anything you don't have theories about?"

"At the moment, I don't have any idea what you're plotting."

"I like the sound of that, but I'll give you a hint anyway."

Gretta pointed, and Sabrina turned to see a pillar of rock crowned with palm trees.

"Lookie," Gretta said. "There's gotta be a whole forest up there. I bet there's leeemons."

Sabrina followed her to the base of the pillar, where crashing waves filled the air with spray. There were enough handholds and ledges that she wouldn't need Carnage to climb up. Gretta, on the other hand, couldn't have done it even if she'd been sober. The redhead was already failing her second attempt, her boots slipping on wet rock. She splashed down next to Sabrina.

"I'll take you up," Sabrina said. "Hold on to my back."

Gretta hugged Sabrina from behind, her legs wrapping around Sabrina's hips. Her mouth brushed Sabrina's ear, softly saying,

"Like this?"

Sabrina blushed. She felt like she was rising past thirty percent, but instead of inhuman strength, she got inhuman awareness of every place where Gretta's body touched hers. She started climbing. It was a good distraction. The alcohol meant she had to double check every handhold to make sure she wouldn't slip.

"Hey Sabrina."

"Yeah?"

"If you want, I'll give up trying to figure out what's bugging you, but I can't watch without doing anything, you know? So, if there's something I can do to make it easier, I want to do that."

"I'm fine, really."

"Sure, but _I'm_ not, and I won't be until I'm convinced you're better, so think of something I can do, okay?"

Sabrina thought about it, but there was no way Gretta could help. You couldn't un-eat someone's guts. In the end, a yoma was just a yoma, and there was only one thing to be done with yoma.

Near the top of the pillar, Gretta climbed Sabrina's back to pull herself over the cliff's edge, turned, and offered Sabrina a hand. Sabrina didn't need help, but she took the hand anyway, and when they were both up, neither let go. Together, they explored the grove of palms, falling back into the easy sort of conversation they'd had in Sutafu. Gretta didn't find lemons, but she did get a spiky melon the size of her head, which she called a "huge angry lemon." She started skipping as soon as she had it.

"I'm not saying it'll necessaaarily taste amazing, but why would it need so many spikes protecting it if it's gross?"

She sat on a mossy rock. Following their routine for eating melons on the march, Gretta gripped the angry lemon's base while Sabrina sliced the top off with her claymore.

"Thanks," Gretta said, and dug into the slimy red insides with both hands. Sabrina reclined on the moss beside her, enjoying the dappled light - the smells of moss and fruit and Gretta mixing together. She watched the distant fleet, so precariously balanced over the abyss. She had a theory now, about what was at the bottom, if the abyss even had a bottom. She imagined all the ships that sank, and all the creatures and sailors that died in the water. The dead might float at first, but eventually everything sank, so the pitch black depths would fill with thousands of years of death - bones upon bones upon bones, and whatever monsters lurked in the dark crawled over the tops of those bones, waiting for more corpses to sink into their gaping mouths.

There was something Gretta could do for her after all.

Gretta poked Sabrina with her elbow. "Want some?"

"Just a bite."

Gretta held out a chunk of fruit. Sabrina eyed the redhead's dripping hand and decided it wasn't worth getting her own hands sticky just for one bite. She caught the fruit between her teeth.

Gretta giggled. "It's juuust like having a pet."

Sabrina stopped chewing to stick out her tongue. The fruit did taste as sour as a lemon, but that might be because it wasn't ripe, or maybe she was losing her taste for normal food. She swallowed.

"I've been thinking," Sabrina said. "There is something you can do to help."

Gretta set her fruit behind her and faced Sabrina fully. "Anything."

"When the time comes and I send my black card, I'm going to send it to you. Don't try to pull me back. Even if it's sooner than you expected or I don't look like I'm awakening, I don't want you to hesitate. Just get rid of me."

Gretta's laugh sounded forced. "I don't even have a sword. Besides, you've barely been out two years. You have looots of time."

"I'm serious," Sabrina said.

"Me too. When you've been a warrior ten years or so, stop getting in fights. Phantom Miria lived ninety years that way. It's rare, but a warrior who doesn't fight much can even outlive humans."

"I'm not going to stop fighting," Sabrina said. "If there's even one yoma left, I'll hunt it, and if the asarakam are anything like yoma I'll slaughter them too. Since I can't kill that many things, there's going to come a time when I feel myself starting to become a yoma, and then there's only one thing to do. Even you agree that if I became a yoma, I'd have to die, right?"

"Okay, yes, all warriors believe that, but you'll never get there! You'll have killed plenty in ten years, and then you can start living for other things. You're not just a vessel for killing, are you? Is your hate the only thing that matters to you?"

"That's beside the point," Sabrina said. "All I need to know is, if I send you my black card, will you help me?"

Gretta blinked and wiped her eyes, her hands staining her face red. "Nope," she said. "I won't. No matter what, I'll always always _always_ try to bring you back. I couldn't stand it if you died, so please Sabrina, stay with me forever."

Gretta wrapped her arms around Sabrina's neck, and kissed her.

For a moment Sabrina froze, and then she felt the warmth from the moonlit pool. She had a theory - no - she was absolutely certain the warmth was what humans called love. She kissed back. She wanted Gretta to feel it too. _I want you close to me_. Gretta made a happy sound and deepened the kiss. She tasted like fruit and alcohol and _Gretta_ , and as they pressed closer, Sabrina felt the yoki sensation from earlier wash through her body, awakening her nerves so she could feel every contour of Gretta's lips. Sabrina was about to make real use of her yoma tongue - yoma tongue. _Yoma's tongue_. Sabrina shuddered, and Gretta froze. Gretta was kissing a mouth that had eaten guts. Despair returned worse than they'd been in Dietrich's cavern. _Gretta was kissing a yoma._

Sabrina shoved Gretta back. The redhead tumbled off the rock, crushing the melon she'd set behind her into red pulp. Gretta got to her knees and gathered a few of the pieces, but they were covered in dirt.

"S-sorry," Gretta said. "I should've known you didn't like me. . . like that."

Sabrina wanted to say something to wipe away Gretta's hurt look, but she couldn't come up with a single word. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the hurricane of emotions she'd just been through, or maybe she was so disgusted with herself that she didn't want Gretta to hear her speak. Maybe she just didn't trust her voice not to crack.

Gretta looked at the fruit in her hands, saw the dirt, and dropped it. "You don't have to say anything, so - I get it, so. . . I'll be back on the ship."

Gretta ran and hopped over the edge.

Sabrina groaned. She was strong enough to catch up to Gretta if she wanted, but even though it was painful, things were better this way. If they were. . . together, and Gretta found out that Sabrina ate guts, it would be unbearable. Sabrina had no idea what to do. Gretta would be crushed if Sabrina died, so suicide was off the table. There was no way out.

Sabrina curled into a ball on her side. The moss was still warm where Gretta had been.


	7. Blue Blood

Sabrina swallowed the last mouthful of guts and let the man sink. As the body descended, the monsters she'd fought off earlier returned - finned shadows in the deep, tearing the man's corpse to pieces. Soon, he'd be another set of bones for the abyss.

Sabrina surfaced for air and turned to chase down the fleet. She did this every morning - not the part where she kidnapped and ate one of the human soldiers, but the rest of it. She swam out before first light and stayed out until after dawn, so that if any of the warriors who could sense yoki were paying attention, they'd feel nothing out of the ordinary on the days when Sabrina fed. She surfaced again and squinted at the horizon, where the masts of the fleet poked up out of the water. There were twelve ships in the fleet, but there seemed to be way more masts than that. She counted - thirty eight masts.

Sabrina shot forward, swimming with ten percent yoki. The fleets neared, and she saw arrows arcing from one deck to another. The Organization ships were small, and only had one sail where the enemy ships had two or sometimes three. As she caught up to the first of the Organization's ships, a towering galley rammed into it, and with a deafening crack snapped the hull and buried its prow in the smaller ship's side. Monsters in plate armor leapt onto the Organization ship's deck. The shortest monster must have been ten feet tall. Each held a tower shield in one hand and a spear in the other, and there were three holes in their helms - one for each must be the asarakam. Sabrina wanted to Carnage up onto the deck to fight them and gauge their strength, but she had more important things, or rather people, to worry about, so she dove under the ships, under timbers and arrows and corpses falling into the water, and resurfaced to climb aboard Cassiopeia's flagship, where Sabrina and Gretta had been awkwardly avoiding each other for weeks.

Sabrina expected to find the ship in chaos as the crew fought asarakam boarders. Instead, she saw dozens of armored asarakam corpses stacked at the stern, forming a barrier. Gretta and some of the others too low ranked to dodge arrows sheltered behind it while the rest of the warriors stood in ranks on the deck, looking up at Cassiopeia, who balanced on the railing to watch the battle. No one was talking, and no one moved except to pluck an arrow out of the air and pass it down to the end of the formation, where a human collected the ammunition in a barrel. Leah turned to glare at Sabrina, who stood dripping by the railing.

"Get in line," Leah hissed.

Sabrina glared back, but took her place between numbers fifty one and fifty five in the third rank from the front. Cassiopeia had demoted Sabrina and Catalina for failing to kill Dietrich, which was infuriating, but Sabrina couldn't call it unfair. They _had_ failed. Sabrina just thought it was absurd that she, who had nearly held her own against six awakened beings, wasn't even in the top fifty anymore.

"We're losing," Cassiopeia said. "Eleven, to the front."

Catalina stepped forward.

"They have no awakened, so you're ideal for this," Cassiopeia said. "Pick four squads - anyone but single digits. Capture the asarakam ships intact."

Catalina rattled off fifteen numbers, and fifteen warriors followed her over the railing, leaving nearly a hundred on board - almost half of the warriors under Cassiopeia's command. The number one jumped down from the railing and faced her warriors, fists on her hips.

"The rest of us are going to attack the coast while the asarakam navy is occupied. Our man in the crow's nest has seen a city. That city is called Trona, the City of Steel, which supplies the asarakam with weapons, armor, and all its other metal products. Its governor is the first of the three lords we have to kill to beat the asarakam. We don't have the numbers to occupy Trona, so destroy it. Kill everything living. Raze everything standing. Anyone who has a problem with that, go join eleven's group - I don't want you here."

There was a pause. The only sounds were the waves against the hull and the shouts of battle growing distant. Then number six, Swordmaster Techne, stepped forward.

"We could have used you," Cassiopeia said. "Get off my ship."

A dozen warriors followed Techne, leaving the ranks on the deck full of holes. Sabrina glanced toward Gretta, but she was gone - she must have slipped into the water while everyone was watching Techne. Sabrina frowned. She'd rather have Gretta within Carnage range, but the redhead was pretty smart about laying low in fights, so if she left the ship, that just meant Sabrina was in for a harder fight than Catalina.

"That's that," Cassiopeia said. "Now, Anyone ranked between one hundred and three hundred, take over for the human oarsmen. Ninety nine and up, defend this ship."

The warriors rushed to obey. Sabrina hopped onto the railing, and nearly fell off again when the warriors started rowing, accelerating the boat almost as fast as Sabrina could swim. Humans scurried to lower the sail, which had gone taut in the wrong direction due to their speed.

As the coastal cliffs came in sight, three asarakam galleys rowed out to intercept them, pointed rams splitting the ocean. One charged head on, the others angled to pincer from either side. Cassiopeia ran to the stern and leapt onto the heap of dead, drawing both claymores from her back.

"Seven!" she said. "What do you sense on those ships?"

A warrior in a black blindfold stepped forward. "Thirty asarakam per ship, Captain. None awakened."

"How strong?" Cassiopeia said.

"From this distance. . ." Number seven's forehead wrinkled. "I believe their individual yoki is superior to ours on average, but without outliers. If they were ranked warriors, they would fall between ranks ten and one hundred. Therefore, in terms of overall yoki power, we are slightly overmatched, captain."

Cassiopeia gave a sharp nod. "Single digits defend port! Everyone else, starboard!"

Sabrina and two dozen others ran starboard, but the side galleys were still distant while the ship in front was barely half a mile away, closing fast.

"Leah," Cassiopeia said. "When I move, tell the port rowers to unleash ten percent yoki and increase speed."

"You got it," Leah said.

As soon as the first arrows took to the sky, Cassiopeia's eyes glowed gold. She charged along the deck, building speed, and, with an explosion of yoki that even Sabrina could feel, launched herself from the bow into the sky, her swords spread like wings on either side. Leah was shouting something at the rowers, but Sabrina barely heard her - she was too busy staring in consternation at the the flashing speck that was Divine Cleaver Cassiopeia. There was no way Cassiopeia was going to make it, right? The enemy must've been a thousand feet away when she leapt. But the galley was closing fast, and Cassiopeia had jumped from a fast ship as well, doubling her speed. Sabrina's brain told her it might be possible for a number one, but she didn't really believe it until Cassiopeia dropped from the sky, splitting the enemy's bow in a single strike. As the number one plunged into the ocean, a circle of white water raced across the surface, fleeing the site of the blow. It passed Cassiopeia's flagship in half a second, accompanied by a thunderclap. Half a dozen warriors swore with goddesses' names, covering their ears.

Someone knocked on Sabrina's pauldron. She turned and saw a warrior with a braid wrapped around her neck, holding an arrow.

"This was about to go through your knee," the warrior said. "Don't get distracted."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Susan, number eighty. Nice to meet you."

"Listen, once we board the enemy ship, go for the tiller," Sabrina said. "We've got to move the galley off its ramming course, so I'll protect you while you steer. I can probably hold off a dozen asarakam. Maybe more."

"That can't be true. If you could do that, you'd be on the port side of the ship."

Sabrina smirked. "Trust me."

"If you say so. I suppose it's better than fighting alone."

The starboard galley entered arrow range, and the uneven _thunks_ of arrows hitting the deck doubled in tempo. A human fell from the crow's nest and crunched against the railing, fletchings sticking out from his neck.

"Alright low-rankers!" Leah said. "Get 'em."

Sabrina and thirty warriors dove into the water and raced toward the galley. Despite Sabrina's daily outings, she wasn't the fastest of the swimmers. Some splashed ahead of her using a crawling stroke that pulled them across the surface, while others unleashed yoki to shoot ahead. Arrows plunked into the sea around them. Muffled cries echoed through the water, and Sabrina realized that the surface swimmers had no way to avoid projectiles. It hardly mattered - the black bulk of the galley was already coming within reach.

Sabrina breached, Carnage charging up the side of the ship. A spear jabbed down at her, but she batted it aside and rammed the armored asarakam who wielded it, throwing him up into the air. She kicked off the railing to follow him, and the asarakam covered himself with his tower shield. No regular blow could cut through that much metal, and it was a well known weakness of the strong sword that it didn't work in midair, since there was nothing to cut to build resistance. Sabrina grinned. Her hands went to the sword hilt at her thigh. The metal band-sheath she'd requested back in Rabona had been ready for her at the rendezvous, and now it was strapped onto her thigh. She caught up to the asarakam and began to draw, building resistance against the sheath. When the blade sprang free, it thrummed, ripping through tower shield, plate armor, and flesh, flinging blue blood into the rigging. Laughing as she began to fall, Sabrina sheathed and cut again and again. She landed in a hail of asarakam chunks, armor fragments, and blood.

Already, the deck was splattered with red and blue. Sabrina saw a warrior pinned by a spear through her calf, trying to fend off a huge asarakam who was bludgeoning her to with his shield. Another asarakam shoved two warriors overboard, but lost his arm to a third, and Susan had her back to the foremast, missing her sword hand. A pair of asarakam closed in on her, the one on the left wielding Susan's claymore. Sabrina charged, but the asarakam with a spear was already attacking. Susan flipped over the thrust and landed on the asarakam's shoulders, tearing his helmet off with her remaining hand. The second asarakam swung Susan's sword, but Sabrina caught him by the wrist, cut off his arm, and nailed his head to the mast with Susan's claymore. Turning, she saw Susan strangling the second asarakam with her braid.

"You got him?" Sabrina asked. "Or should I finish him off?"

"Him?" She said. "Actually, Cassiopeia says asarakam are hermaphrodit-"

The asarakam fell backward and smashed Susan against the deck. Sabrina charged, but his spear whipped toward her, and she barely Carnaged back in time. Warmth spilled down her cheek from a line of pain under her eye. She was laughing - this was her kind of problem. No mysteries, no emotional turmoil, just blood flying. The asarakam spun to finish Susan off, so Sabrina charged again, and this time, when he thrust at her chest, she Carnaged to one side and came in from a new angle. It was a maneuver most awakened beings couldn't track, but the asarakam's spear followed her and glanced off her breastplate to stick into her hip. Before he could pull it out, Sabrina hacked off his legs and cut his head in two as he fell.

She dropped to her knees. Nearby, Susan picked up the hand she'd lost, reattaching it with the air of someone putting on a bracelet. _Definitely a defensive type then_ , Sabrina thought.

"Thank you very much for your help," Susan said. "Here, let me get that spear for you."

Susan braced her hand against Sabrina's pauldron and tugged the spear out of her hip. Sabrina hissed in pain, preparing to unleash twenty percent to heal, but the wound closed on its own.

"I'm skilled at yoki synchronization," Susan explained. "Would you like to capture the tiller now?"

Sabrina nodded and led the way aft. The screeches and roars of asarakam sounded from the battle at the bow - the asarakam were too busy fighting to interfere with Sabrina, but the rigging was swarming with human archers, their bows aimed toward Sabrina at half draw. They were just humans, of course, but they didn't have the panicked look most humans got around hostile warriors, and none of them were firing.

"That's rather polite of them," Susan said. "Do you suppose they prefer us to the asarakam?"

Sabrina imagined herself in the tactical position of a human archer. Ah.

"The moment we turn our backs, they'll all fire at once," Sabrina said.

"Oh," Susan said. "That could actually _kill_ someone who didn't know it was coming. I believe that's the most credible threat I've ever felt from a human."

"We're lucky they didn't get a shot while we were fighting."

"Indeed. We should be careful - the mainland humans have been battling warriors for a century at least. They may have developed some tricks for killing us."

Sabrina watched the archers while Susan cut down the sailors at the tiller.

"Would you rather turn right or left?" Susan asked.

Sabrina scanned the ocean. The Organization flagship was ahead and portside while the ship Cassiopeia had cut was sinking ahead and starboard, rocking in the water as if from a recent impact - probably one of Cassiopeia's blows. On the bow of the galley Sabrina controlled, a dozen warriors lay dead. Only nine asarakam lay with them - ten if you counted the chunks of flesh from Sabrina's first kill. As Sabrina watched, the remaining warriors fled into the ocean, pursued by hissing volleys from the archers.

"We'll ram the ship Cassiopeia hit," Sabrina said. "bring the fight to her."

"Yes, it does seem like we're going to need her reinforcement," Susan said. "I have to ask, were you boasting when you said you could hold off more than a dozen asarakam? Because that's. . . eighteen of them, and they appear to have noticed us."

"I've fought worse odds."

"Did you win?"

Sabrina tossed her hair and went to meet the asarakam. One of them was hissing orders at the others, the staccato words of his alien language distorted by his helm. The asarakam spread out in three groups of six, two of which edged around either side of the deck to surround her. Sabrina knew she'd be dead within the minute if she fought them while they were organized. She needed chaos. She smiled. She was good at chaos.

As she passed the center of the ship, she cut diagonally through the mainmast. The supporting ropes creaked, keeping the mast from toppling; instead, it slid off its ruined base and stabbed through the deck with a noise like trees ripping in two. The deck splintered, boards warping, twisting. The galley rocked. Asarakam charged Sabrina over the shifting boards, but they were too slow. Sabrina sliced the supporting ropes on the port side, and the mainmast began to fall to starboard, shedding screaming archers. In that moment, the air was thick with flying wood and falling men. Chaos. Two asarakam were side by side in the air, leaping out of the way of the falling mast. Sabrina charged them from behind while they couldn't turn to defend themselves. With a single strong sword draw, she cut both in half. Three asarakam bore down on her, but she slipped beneath the toppling mast, and her pursuers were too large to follow.

 _Six in the starboard group,_ she thought. _Killed two, three behind me. . . One's alone._

She peered through the flying debris and caught a glimpse of her prey staggering as boards splintered and heaved underfoot. She charged low. He spun to face her, and in three stabs drove her back and split her left hand to the wrist. He was faster than her, stronger, more experienced. He stepped forward to attack, but instead of raising her claymore to block, Sabrina sheathed her sword and buried her spikes deep.

The mast smashed through the deck. Sabrina's footing bucked beneath her, but her spikes kept her in place. Everything else on the deck was thrown starboard, including the asarakam Sabrina had been duelling. Though it was tough to aim while her footing heaved, her blade caught his neck as he fell past, all but beheading him.

The deck tilted underfoot, the mast's weight pulling the starboard side low. A few asarakam had fallen overboard when the mast hit, but most were regaining their balance even on the sloping deck. Only near the bow, where blood and bodies spilled overboard, was the footing treacherous enough to slip up the enemy. Sabrina rushed there and scored two more cheap kills before the window of chaos passed, and the asarakam attacked her as one. She skidded back against the foremast. The odds were thirteen to one. Between healing her split hand, Carnage, and strong draws, she'd reached thirty percent yoki. Not a bad trade for five asarakam, but the enemies closing on her were orderly now, guarding each other's flanks with their enormous shields. Fighting them would be almost as bad as the six awakened in Sutafu. She thought about cutting down the second mast, but they'd be ready for it now. Besides, with the enemy this close, if she swung her sword into the mast, she'd be full of holes before it came out the other side. _I need an alley_ , she thought. In Alfons, whenever she fought overwhelming numbers, she'd squeeze into alleys or the gap between rocks, where only one enemy could approach at once.

The lead asarakam roared, and all thirteen monsters lunged. Sabrina Carnage charged up the foremast. The spar across the top of the sail would be her alley. Most of the archers were gone from the rigging, fallen during the crash of the mainmast, but Sabrina encountered one as she reached the top. He made room for her, leaning back into the harness that kept him in place even while the listing of the ship tilted the mast slightly over the water. Sabrina was about to behead him when he said,

"Be out of your way in a moment ma'm."

He had a thick accent, but that was definitely Sabrina's language. She paused, giving the man a once over. His hair and beard were the color of dirty wolf fur, his cheeks misshapen from scars.

"You can talk without that weird hissing?" She said.

"Was an Alliance soldier. Please don't kill me. I'll shoot your enemies."

Sabrina rolled her eyes. As if she'd trust a human. She swung her claymore, but in the last moment saw a look of horror on his face - normal enough for a man about to die, but he wasn't looking at Sabrina. He was looking behind her, and the fear on his face went beyond anything she'd seen before. She whirled, holding her sword out defensively. She heard the sound of a blade cutting rope behind her. She looked back. The human was falling toward the water.

"God damn it," Sabrina muttered.

She spared a glance for the other ships and saw the galley with a split prow barely two ship lengths ahead. If Sabrina's galley had kept its earlier speed, it would've been seconds from impact, but Sabrina had felled the mainsail, and the oarsmen weren't rowing, probably because the mast had smashed through their deck. Only momentum and the foresail kept the galley moving at all.

Below her, asarakam were leaping into the rigging, leaving their shields behind. Sabrina dropped onto the spar across the top of the sail. The wood was too narrow to withstand Carnage, but it would be worth it to fight one on one. She just hoped none of them were better duellists than she was.

"Pardon me," Susan called. "Crazy girl whose name I didn't catch, I need a favor!"

Looking down, Sabrina saw half a dozen asarakam charging the tiller. Three seconds, and they'd stab Susan to pieces. Sabrina might have been able to Carnage down the mast, but there were too many asarakam in the way. She'd have to risk a jump.

Sabrina hopped to the top of the mast and, with a burst of yoki to her legs, backflipped aft, her stomach dropping. A direct jump would've been easier, but that would've left her facing away from the asarakam in midair, and she'd just shown them how to exploit that for an easy kill. The lead asarakam bellowed from the rigging, and the six below her looked up, spotting her as she finished her arc and landed on the deck next to the tiller.

"If you could give me a few more seconds," Susan said. "We're almost there."

The six asarakam advanced as a shield wall, and this time, Sabrina couldn't afford to retreat and reposition, or they'd capture the tiller. It would have to be perpetual Carnage, just like Sutafu.

Sabrina unleashed forty percent and charged. She spun through her enemies, hacking, yoki boiling in her blood. Metal lanced into her once, twice, thrice, but she couldn't afford to slow or heal, nor did she want to. The shock of cleaving metal and muscle and bone raced up her arms, and she began to laugh. She was faster than them, _faster_. A spear pierced her jaw from the side, slicing her tongue and stabbing through cheek, scraping the inside of her helm. Sabrina cut the weapon in half, then split the asarakam who'd wielded it, nearly blinding herself with the spray of blue blood. More asarakam were rushing into the fray, and she charged to meet them, ripping the deck with her strong sword. Their blood stank like tar. Sabrina's own blood was filling her throat as she fought, choking her. The taste of yoma bathed her tongue. She glimpsed leader's arm wobble and twist in the air like a mirage - felt something slam into her chest. Instinctively, she Carnaged backward, coming to a halt next to Susan, but it was too late. A ten foot spear jutted from her breastplate.

She was still shaking with laughter, but it barely made a sound because she couldn't breathe. The deck before her was soaked with blood, both blue and maroon, draining through the holes and gashes her Carnage had left in the wood. Four asarakam were still standing. Four more knelt to regenerate their mutilated bodies. Five were dead.

Sabrina collapsed onto her side, the world spinning a little, her pulse quickening. Even if she'd started at zero percent yoki, she couldn't have recovered from this. She croaked,

"I'm dying."

"So it appears," Susan said calmly. "I've never healed anything so severe, but I might as well attempt it."

Sabrina heard Susan's footsteps coming closer, but the leader snatched a fallen spear, threw it, and Susan fell back with a scream. The other asarakam ran for Sabrina. Sabrina unleashed fifty percent yoki, trying to stagger to her feet. It was useless. Her mortal wounds sapped her strength. Even the god inside her was dying.

 _You'd be fine if you awakened,_ the god said.

Sabrina's hand flopped numbly as she waved the idea away. Instead, she tried the human archer's trick and made a terrified face at the air behind the asarakam charging her, though she couldn't quite stop laughing, which ruined the effect. None of them fell for it.

Cassiopeia landed behind them and cut them to shreds. The asarakam leader grabbed a spear from one of his wounded soldiers. His arm wobbled as he charged - the same move that had struck down Sabrina. Metal clashed as Cassiopeia parried, but the spear still stabbed through her sword arm. Cassiopeia grunted, her claymore splashing into the blood on the deck. The leader roared in triumph and began to draw the spear out for another thrust, but Cassiopeia's left hand caught the weapon just behind the head. Sabrina didn't even come close to perceiving the technique Cassiopeia used then. One moment, Cassiopeia stood hunched over the head of the spear - there was an explosion of yoki, a deafening crack, and the asarakam leader's head was _gone_. Sabrina saw wood bits shower the deck, but she couldn't hear them over the ringing in her ears.

Cassiopeia dropped the shattered remains of the spear into the blood. Splintered finger bones jutted from her left hand. Bruising flooded up her arm, but disappeared a moment later, her hand and right arm knitting themselves back together. Retrieving her claymore, she beheaded the four wounded asarakam before returning her sword to its sheath.

Sabrina blinked. Her vision was beginning to dim, and she was starving for guts. She wished that archer hadn't escaped. Cassiopeia seemed a long way away as she stood with her fists on her hips to survey the ship. The number one looked back and forth between the corpses and Sabrina, frowning as though she were judging something. She shrugged to herself, then strode toward Sabrina, stepped on Sabrina's chest, and ripped out the spear. Sabrina blacked out, but jerked awake a moment later as air filled her lungs and blood flooded in her veins. Her chest was whole.

"Take care of the rest," Cassiopeia said to someone behind Sabrina. "I need to be judicious with my yoki."

"Understood," Susan said.

"Where are the other boarders?" Cassiopeia asked.

"Routed, I'm afraid," Susan said. "They lasted roughly one minute against the asarakam."

Cassiopeia eyed Sabrina, frowned, and turned to go.

"Get back to the flagship the moment she's healed," Cassiopeia said, and leapt away.

Susan knocked on Sabrina's helm.

"Are you able to hear?" Susan asked.

"Yes."

"And do you have any yoki energy remaining?"

"I have a lot left over from going to fifty percent."

"Oh I see," Susan said. "You haven't even used _fifty percent_. I think I'll choose not to ponder that. Regardless, I would like you to give me some help healing you. Please try to synchronize your yoki with mine."

They healed Sabrina's wounds one at a time, removing four more spears and using up most of Susan's yoki. Luckily for Sabrina, whatever metal the asarakam's spears were made of didn't pierce armor as easily as claymores or the claws of awakened beings could, so her other wounds weren't fatal. She reflected that if the Organization had the resources, it should outfit warriors in full plate to fight asarakam.

Sabrina got to her feet, still a little unsteady.

"You should be careful," Susan said. "We more or less just brought you back to life."

"Don't be dramatic," Sabrina said.

Susan pointed at the deck, which was drenched in maroon from Sabrina's feet all the way to the starboard side.

"The spear didn't quite go through your heart," Susan said, "but it possibly cut your heart on the way past or opened some of the arteries nearby. When you fly into berserk rages in the future, please make them _careful_ berserk rages. You were fortunate Cassiopeia was nearby this time."

"Not fortunate. We deliberately steered toward her. That's planning, not luck."

"I think you might have an inflated ego," Susan said.

"It's not inflated if I really am amazing," Sabrina said.

"I...suppose."

Susan's lips twitched.


	8. Abyssal Hunt

The drillsword screeched as it shredded the ornate steel door. Limbs from statuette asarakam flew from the destruction and bounced across the floor until, after the third drillsword warrior took her turn, the hole in the door was big enough to walk through. Sabrina removed her fingers from her ears.

"Leah, go in first," Cassiopeia said. "Addis, take the roof. Prepare an ambush. The rest of you, follow me."

Addis prowled back down the hallway, leaving a trail of blood from a gash on her back. An awakened asarakam had cut her while thrashing about in its death throes. Leah was no better off. Her uniform was scorched, her face sooty, and beneath the soot, her features had become jagged and brutish - she was close to her limit. Her chain rasped as she dragged it after her through the door. Cassiopeia and two single digits followed, then seven drillsword warriors and a dozen others from the top hundred. Sabrina took the rear.

The governor's hall was woven of silver and brass. Walls, floor, ceiling - all were tapestries of silver dragons and bronze flame except the far wall, which was open, looking out over Trona as the city burned, letting the shrieks of dying humans echo off the metal walls. Beyond Trona, the sun shone over an ocean strewn with sinking ships.

"Hey Cass," Leah said. "You think asarakam will die if we throw it -"

"Quiet," Cassiopeia said. "It can understand us."

Aside from the warriors, there was only one creature in the hall. An asarakam draped in blue rose from throne, his back to his city. He was unarmed, but even taller than the other asarakam Sabrina had seen - more than twice the height of the tallest warrior. He spread his arms, and his robes spread like the wings of a dragon.

"I behold and bid welcome," the asarakam hissed, "to you dragon-humans, wielders of the steel invincible, children of sorcery. In truth, I reveal my intent: I will have you rebuild in chains all that you have destroyed and more, and when your strength fails, I will awaken you into still greater slaves."

"Some welcome," Leah muttered.

"I was briefed on this," Cassiopeia said. "It could be useful."

Cassiopeia made a half bow, opening her arms, though the gesture looked much less diplomatic given the claymores in her hands.

"I behold and give thanks," she said, "to Cysthus, Abyssal One, Master of the Sea, Warden of Trona and the South, and Master of Metals. In truth, I reveal my intent: Cut your head off. But first I have two questions."

"I will hear them," Cysthus said. "And I as well have two."

"I'll hear them," Cassiopeia said. "Tell me how you intercepted us at sea and why Trona is so heavily garrisoned. Did you expect us? Do you have a spy in the Organization?"

Cysthus's third eye rolled down, his slitted pupil disappearing, showing the blue veins on the back of his eyeball. "In truth, I know not of this Organization, though I am master of spies for my King, and thusly know all that it knows. Until you turned your steel of sorcery against the humans, I thought you knights of Astraea from the east. The garrison and the patrols at sea both were meant to defeat such knights."

"So you've never heard of us," Cassiopeia said.

"In truth, I believed the knights of Astraea to be the only free dragon-humans in the world, and so I ask my questions: who are you, and from where have you come?"

"I'm not answering that," Cassiopeia said. "I have another question."

Cysthus hissed something in his own tongue, baring his teeth. "I will _hear_ it."

"If you don't know about us, you must not know about the Cataclysm, so I'll ask like this - if you heard that an asarakam army fought an invincible enemy to a draw, how would you guess they did it? We've been killing you guys since dawn. You're fast. You're tough. But you're nowhere near _that_ tough."

"You speak of the arts of kings. I will tell nothing of this, save to say that their power is a reflection in blood. And now I perceive who you are, for only royal blood reflects such power, and only a single royal has departed these shores in three centuries. My blood, Draome, who voyaged to establish a kingdom on the isle in the west." Cysthus was shaking, his hands falling to his sides. "I am angry, I am grieved and angry! My servant Rubel said the islanders destroyed themselves. My servant Rubel _lied_ to me! Yet there is hope also, for I thought my blood Draome had been lost at sea, and now I know that it is prisoner to its foes. Name a ransom, child of sorcery. I and my king will pay it."

Sabrina and Leah snickered.

"It's dead," Cassiopeia said.

Cysthus's breathing grew unsteady, a high keening slipping out between gasps. "You. . . You have spilled the blood of kings."

"Not personally," Cassiopeia said. "Draome was killed by Phantom Miria."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. As far as she'd heard, no one knew who'd killed who in the cataclysm. Well, no one except Dietrich.

"I met her once," Cassiopeia said. "You can't get what that's like. Miria is one step down from God to us. It would be like you meeting your ancestor dragon. When I was training in the Isley style, I'd beg my swordmaster to tell me about her. He said she'd beaten a creature of the abyss, and I made it my ambition to kill one too. The Organization ordered me to take your head, but I'd kill you either way."

"A large boast from a small creature," Cysthus said. "I hear and accept your challenge. Name you a place?"

"Here," Cassiopeia said.

"Name you a time?"

"Now."

"Thusly I name the weapons: spears without armor or shield."

"No, I'll use the same weapons as the Phantom," Cassiopeia said, "an army of the Organization's strongest."

Cassiopeia looked over her shoulder at Sabrina and the others.

"Comrades," she said. "Let's kill an abyssal."

Sabrina smiled. Even though the opponent was overpowering, if Cassiopeia talked like that, there was nothing Sabrina would rather do than fight. Sabrina unleashed forty percent. The jolt in her veins was duller than usual since she'd already used a lot of energy fighting asarakam. She wasn't as fast as usual - wasn't fast enough to see the bladed tentacle until it was inches from her eye. She Carnaged back, blinking. Her lower eyelid stung and bled down her cheek. Warriors screamed and red splattered the floor.

"If you didn't dodge that, get back!" Cassiopeia said.

Sabrina charged. The single digits charged ahead of her, and beyond them, the true form of Cysthus leapt through the air over Trona. He was a serpent. Six tails as long as galleys merged into one endless body that grew spikier and broader along its length until it culminated in the torso and head of a giant asarakam with six arms instead of two. Twelve bladed tentacles grew from his back, long and lithe as his tails, whirling almost too fast to see, and his body was covered in sapphire scales that flashed in the sun.

The warriors leapt after him. Sabrina landed on a crumbling steeple, jamming her spikes through the tiles and into wood. The church below was burning, collapsing. Cysthus landed across the street, crushing a tenement. A unit of human soldiers got buried under the rubble, and though the warrior who'd been cutting through the soldiers flipped out of the way, Cysthus caught her with a tentacle and bit her in half. Sabrina spared a glance for the single digits landing on the buildings around her and saw number Five and number Twenty Eight lose their legs to some invisible cut. Both slid off the roofs into the alleys.

"Keep moving!" Number Seven said. "He's sneaking his blades through the walls! You won't sense it with all the yoki from the battles around us!"

 _If I were Cysthus, I'd kill Seven first,_ Sabrina thought.

As Cassiopeia and the others attacked Cysthus, Sabrina charged down the side of the church and dashed for number Seven, who was hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Seven was in mid jump when Cysthus slithered toward her, four of his blades shooting forward while the other eight lashed toward Cassiopeia and the others, keeping them back. Sabrina kicked off the street and rammed Seven in midair. Seven crashed through a wall. The blades whipped toward Sabrina.

Sabrina unleashed sixty percent. She blocked one, two, three, four blades, but the last one bent as she struck it, wrapping around her wrist. Her arm bone popped out of its socket as the tentacle flung her toward Cysthus's open mouth. Sabrina's eyes went wide. With no footing to escape, she had to attack. She sheathed her claymore left handed, jammed her right arm back into its socket, and started her strong draw. A thrumming sound came from her left - a chain bound sword swinging to intercept her. _It'll knock me away from his mouth_ , she thought _._ Sabrina suppressed her instinct to block, and the flat of the claymore slammed into her pauldron. The city flipped around her. Cysthus's jaws snapped by her ear as Sabrina's strong draw ground against scales, throwing sparks. No blood flew - it was only a glancing blow in the first place. Sabrina kicked off a spike on Cysthus's neck and landed on the back of his head, roaring as she sheathed and drew in an instant, swinging down with all her strength. her claymore rang. Her hands stung from the force of the blow. Sapphire shrapnel whizzed through the air, but still no blood. Now that she was up close, she could tell the scales on the asarakam part of Cysthus's body were heavier than those on the tail. Maybe if she struck the same spot twice. . . As she moved to sheathe her claymore, Cysthus's hand appeared over the curve of his head, closing around her. She hopped onto his thumb and backflipped off. Tentacles shot after her. She blocked the first on the flat of her claymore, and the force flung her out of reach of the others, high over the city, falling.

Sabrina crashed through branches and slammed onto metal. She pushed herself up. She was in a rooftop garden on a wrought iron table sized for asarakam. A child's corpse lay beside her on a platter, its belly slit open and emptied. Sabrina scowled.

A Divine Cleaver yoki pulse brought her attention back to the battle. She Carnaged over rooftops toward Cysthus, who was bellowing and clutching the stump of one of his arms. Cassiopeia landed on a dome next to him, staggering, her breastplate shredded and her uniform soaked red. Her left arm hung smashed, Her second claymore missing. All twelve bladed tentacles converged on her as she fell to her knees.

Leah landed on Cassiopeia's right as Sabrina leapt to Cassiopeia's left. A blur of Carnage, and Sabrina deflected six blades, hitting each one hard enough to send it flying so they couldn't wrap around her.

Cassiopeia stood, her wounds already closing. Her face and body were distorted, her voice rasping with yoki. "It's going for the ocean!" she said. "We can't let it get there. Leah, give me a shot at the head!"

Leah's sword was still wrapped in her chain from when she'd saved Sabrina. The number Three pulled it free, sheathed it, and then clipped the end of her chain to one of the links in the chain's middle, forming a lasso big enough to loop over a tower.

"Luck," Sabrina said.

Leah smirked and leapt into the air.

"Let's go," Cassiopeia said.

They sprinted ahead of the battle, into the shadow of Trona's walls. Cassiopeia leapt to the battlement. Sabrina Carnaged up to join her. The walls were enormous - five times as high as those of Rabona, and deep enough for fifty warriors to march abreast on the wall walk. Sabrina thought they could only have been built with yoki, and were meant to repel creatures of yoki, though the gates hadn't slowed the Divine Cleaver. Cassiopeia braced her foot against the parapet. Sabrina went to join her, and caught sight of the far side of the wall. There was no ground at the foot of the city, only cliffs falling into the ocean. The combined height of cliff and wall was dizzying.

Sabrina turned back to Trona and saw Cysthus slithering toward them, crushing through every building that stood in his way. A few single digits kept pace and fought his bladed tentacles, but none could get close enough to strike his body, and Cysthus didn't even look at them - his three eyes were fixed on Cassiopeia.

"I can't beat it," Cassiopeia said. "I took my best shot last time, and got one arm. He nearly cut me in half."

Cassiopeia grabbed Sabrina by the pauldrons and locked eyes with her. "Jump with me Sabrina. Block half the blades. I'll do the rest."

"I can't use my technique in midair. I can block four, tops."

"You'll block six. If he gets to the water, he'll be twice as strong and he'll sink our ships. I only have yoki left for one Cleaver, so this is our last chance. You'll block six."

". . . I'll block six."

"We go the moment Leah makes an opening. Follow as close as you can, and prioritize tentacles on the right. I'll prioritize left so we won't get the same ones."

Leah's chain fell around Cysthus's neck and snapped taut, dragging him off balance. Cassiopeia charged. Sabrina gave her a fraction of a second's head start and then Carnaged after, catching up at the edge of the wall walk. They leapt together, Sabrina less than a foot behind as Cysthus's blades twisted to intercept them.

Sabrina blocked five, barely. Her last swing was desperate, throwing her guard wide open. Three bladed tentacles whipped toward Cassiopeia's head. Cassiopeia swung at the blades on the left and above, trusting the right to Sabrina. With no hope of changing her claymore's momentum in time, Sabrina unleashed seventy percent and parried with her left arm. The tentacle sheared through her hand and vambrace like wet clay, but Sabrina's parrying motion threw it off course, and after it burst from her forearm in a shower of blood and bone, it barely clipped Cassiopeia's helm.

Cysthus's hands thrummed toward them. Sabrina sheathed her sword for a strong draw, but Cassiopeia planted her boot against Sabrina's breastplate and kicked off with a burst of yoki. Sabrina flew back and crashed against the parapet. She started healing immediately - she had enough energy from going to seventy percent. Ahead, Cassiopeia shot toward Cysthus's face, her claymore pointed skyward, glittering in the sun.

Leah's chain went slack. Cysthus ducked under Cassiopeia and launched himself over the wall. Sabrina cursed through grinding teeth.

"Grab the chain!" One of the warriors said.

The end of Leah's chain was sliding toward a crenel when Sabrina snatched it, digging in with her spikes. Cassiopeia and other warriors landed around her and grabbed on. The chain went taut. It dragged the warriors into the ramparts, but it could not drag them over - they were a mass of tangled limbs bulging with yoki hardened muscle, every warrior in the top hundred. They could have lifted a small cathedral.

The chain made a groaning sound and broke. The warriors fell back, though Sabrina's spikes kept her upright. Below, she heard a deep splash. Cassiopeia slammed her fists against the rampart, pressing her forehead against the stone.

"I sense the abyssal moving to intercept the fleet," number Seven said, "though the ships are too distant to discern whether comrades or asarakam are on board. We don't know who won the battle at sea."

Sabrina whirled on Cassiopeia. "We're going after him, right?" Sabrina said. Gretta was with the fleet.

"I can't," Cassiopeia said.

Sabrina shook Cassiopeia. "He'll wipe out our fleet. Those are _your_ soldiers down there, and they don't stand a chance without you. Jump with me. I'll block eight blades - ten."

"Leah's at her limit," Cassiopeia said. "She pushed herself too hard trying to make an opening for me. She'll go past eighty if I don't sync with her and pull her back. . . I have to go."

"There are over a hundred comrades on those ships!" Sabrina said. "Next to that, who cares about Leah?"

" _Me_. She saved _your_ life. She's more useful than all the soldiers on the fleet combined, and if she awakens, it would take my last Cleaver to stop her. We'd have no hope of killing Cysthus then."

Cassiopeia pushed past Sabrina and crossed to the edge of the wall walk. Sabrina chased after her, but Cassiopeia's arm blurred with speed, and Sabrina found the number one's claymore pointed at her throat.

"Don't get in my way," Cassiopeia said.

Warrior's hands fell on Sabrina's arms and shoulders, pulling her back. Sabrina spat at Cassiopeia's feet.

"Calm down," One of the warriors said. "Cassiopeia's right. We don't want to fight an awakened Leah right now."

"What are your orders for us?" Seven asked Cassiopeia.

"There's a chance you could save our comrades in the fleet if you distract Cysthus until I return," Cassiopeia said, "but I won't order you to go underwater against an abyssal. It's your choice."

The number one stepped off the wall, dropping out of sight. Sabrina took a deep breath and tried to stop shaking, to think rationally. The yoki in her blood didn't help. She scanned the remaining warriors. Seven was the strongest one there; most of the rest had the black sleeves of drillsword users. Going after Cysthus with this force was suicide, or it would be if not for the possibility of Cassiopeia showing up later. Factoring that in. . . it was still really bad.

"So," Number Seven said. "Are we going?"

The only two who weren't drillswords thrust their claymores out so the points crossed. "He killed Jane," one said. "I'll cut a hole in his skull."

"thinking strategically," a drillsword said, "if we let it go now and have to fight it again later, its full strength will be back, but our dead comrades won't be. Even if our chances now are slim, they'll never be this good again."

The drillswords added their claymores to the first pair, their weapons converging like the spokes of a wheel. Sabrina drew her sword and stabbed it into the pile.

 _He's not touching those ships_ , she thought.

"He's just a damn yoma," she said.

"We won't be able to communicate once we're under," Seven said, "so our plan will be simple enough to require minimal adjustments. We'll gamble on the probability that Techne and Catalina won the sea battle. Engage Cysthus if he attacks us, but otherwise swim for the fleet. Our odds will drastically improve if we can join with them."

Sabrina and the warriors sheathed their swords and hopped onto the ramparts.

Seven paused with one foot over the wall. "One more note," She said. "Water will not cushion you from this height. Land as you would on a hard surface."

They jumped. Sabrina's stomach dropped. Crags rushed past her. She flexed her knees for impact - clenched her teeth so she wouldn't bite her tongue, and crashed into a breaking wave, plunging deep. Her boots raked the sand at the bottom. Kicking off toward the fleet, she swam faster than she'd known she could, seventy percent yoki making her limbs a blur. Other warriors kept pace on either side, and a few pulled ahead of her as the ocean floor fell away beneath them. Sabrina shuddered. This time, she knew what lurked in the abyss. With her golden eyes, she could make out a glimmer of sapphire in the murk - the shape of a serpent circling. He was fast in the water. The shadow of his tail slithered behind him, its six ends moving together like one long fin. Sabrina couldn't see what he was doing, but the water began to cloud with mud and grit, filling the depths with darkness Sabrina's eyes couldn't penetrate.

Bladed tentacles shot upward from the murk. The warriors around Sabrina tried to block, but the tentacles curved around to impale them from above.

 _Engage Cysthus if he attacks_ , Seven had said. They'd have to dive into the abyss.

Sabrina surfaced and gulped down one last lungful of air. The masts of the fleet were still small on the horizon - the swimmers would get no help from Techne.

Sabrina dove. The other warriors were ahead of her, entering darkness. Cysthus was nowhere to be seen; no more tentacles rose from the deep, but Seven could doubtless sense him, and Seven kept diving. Sabrina slowed. The billowing muck was thicker down here - blacker. The other warriors might be able to sense Cysthus, but Sabrina would be helpless in the darkness. She could barely see her hands even at her current depth. She stopped, treading water, looking back and forth between the dim, distant surface and the blackness roiling beneath her. Soon, the others would need to come up for air, and Sabrina could rejoin them. She wrapped her arms around herself, waiting. There was no sound, no movement in the darkness, but Sabrina felt something brush against her skin. The water was flowing past her, a foul tasting current spewed from the abyss. The flickers of light that filtered to these depths turned red. Debris swirled in the water - scraps of uniforms, a length of stigmata stitching, a silver eyeball.

 _Don't be afraid,_ said the god within. _I can still save us, but not here - nothing can save you if you stay here._

Sabrina fled toward Trona, or she hoped it was toward Trona. Something huge loomed ahead, too close to avoid. She collided with it and tried to kick off, but it was sticky, sucking her feet in, clinging to her face. She kicked it hard enough to crush a yoma's skull and shot upward. From the clearer waters near the surface, she could see that she'd collided with the muddy slope that divided the shallows from the abyss. She also saw the head and shoulders of Cysthus rising from the abyss as he moved to intercept her.

Sabrina breached for air. Trona was close - perhaps half a mile away. She fell back into the ocean and tore off her helm and armor as she swam. Even a few pounds of weight could be the difference between escape and death. A wave of pressure swelled around her - water fleeing Cysthus's onrushing mass. She wanted to look back, but that could slow her down.

The ocean ended in rock ahead of her. She pushed her muscles as fast as they'd go and breached, hitting the cliff face spikes first and charging up away from the waves. A water muffled roar sounded behind her, and then, with a splash, it was muffled no more. The rock trembled under her feet. She glanced down and saw Cysthus climbing after her by digging his claws into the rock. his tentacle blades lashed toward her from the right and left, above and behind. She couldn't block them all. The only direction she could dodge was down, back toward Cysthus. Apparently, he was so sure she wasn't a threat that he'd fired all his appendages offensively.

 _The universal weakness of yoki_.

"Arrogance," she muttered, and charged.

Tentacles shot past her and smashed the cliff above, unleashing a hail of boulders, but Sabrina sprinted many times faster than falling rocks. She reached Cysthus's face and strong drew, pushing forward with Carnage in the same instant so the force of both techniques quickened her claymore to invisible speeds. This time, blood flew amidst the sapphires, but the wound was shallow. A quarter second later she was flashing past his chest. She Carnage Drew into the stump of his arm, ripping a gash down his side. Still too shallow. The thickness of the scales was slowing her claymore. She reached the tail, and as the scales blurred past, she saw how small they were, and laughed. Her Carnage Draw severed the abyssal's tail as easy as cleaving rock. Though Cysthus didn't seem like much of a regenerator, she split the tail into eighths just to be sure, and skidded to a halt at the bottom of the cliff.

Boulders, sapphires, and blue blood rained into the waves. Cysthus was screaming. Sabrina was laughing. She estimated she'd just destroyed more than half his body and spilled two thirds of his blood. Anything but an abyssal would be dead. Better yet, without his tail for swimming, he'd be useless underwater. The fleet was safe.

Cysthus scuttled up the wall like a five legged spider. Sabrina chased him, but he was faster on land without his tail, and by the time she reached the walltop, he was vanishing into the alleys. She leapt onto the roofs, chasing the sound of his footsteps, and when those faded she dropped into the streets and chased the trail of his blood. The alleys were twisting, steep. Cysthus's trail mixed with the blood of the humans lying butchered on the cobblestones. After a few minutes' chase, she reached a square with an asarakam corpse lying on a stretcher. The marks of Cysthus's blades crisscrossed the corpse, leaving stripes of blue blood leading in every direction. Sabrina slowed down and began to inspect each potential trail.

 _What am I even planning to do if I catch up?_ she thought. Cysthus still had more blades than Sabrina could deflect, and he wasn't likely to underestimate her again. He wasn't running from her for fear of death, but for fear of being delayed. If she wanted to kill him, she'd need Cassiopeia.

She carnaged onto the roofs and scanned the crumbling cityscape. Leah was sitting on a tower roof nearby, resting her head on her arms as she watched the alleys. Sabrina landed beside her.

"Knew I sensed you around here," Leah said. "Cass is about to go for it. Get in there and help her, big shot."

"Where is she?"

Leah pointed, and Sabrina jumped. She was only halfway there when the bladed tentacles started flying. Buildings burst into chunks, and a figure in white danced on the edge of the abyssal's range, fending off the blades, always on the retreat. The battle was moving back toward the Governor's palace, so Sabrina ran there and intercepted them in a white stone courtyard beneath the opening into the hall of silver and bronze. Cassiopeia put her back to the palace wall, holding two claymores crossed in front of her as Cysthus closed in. Sabrina stood at her side.

"We need to keep its attention on us," Cassiopeia said, "so we'll both give it everything we have. Don't fall behind."

"Same to you," Sabrina said.

They charged. They fought. Sabrina moved faster than she ever had, the hail of attacks from Cysthus forcing her Carnage to become precise to dodge what she couldn't block. She slipped between swinging limbs, spun past blades, hacked a tentacle in half. It wasn't enough. If they'd had Leah to drag Cysthus off balance, they could have won. If Cysthus had made a mistake, they could have won, but in a straight fight, the difference between warrior and abyssal was too great. Cysthus's hand whooshed past Sabrina's chest, his claws gashing her to the bone. She collapsed against the palace wall. All eleven tentacles converged to finish her off, but Cassiopeia stood over her and blocked nine in a blur of metal. The final two punched through Cassiopeia's guts. She raised a sword to sever them, and they ripped away through her sides, flinging blood onto the stone.

Cassiopeia collapsed to her knees before the abyssal.

"So ends our duel," Cysthus said. "In truth, sacrificing mobility to defend your ally has cost you your life."

"Maybe," Cassiopeia said, "but it kept you still."

Addis the Assassin landed on Cysthus's head. Three stabs to his eyes, and he was screaming, blind. His hands reached up to claw at her as she backflipped away.

"Sabrina!" Cassiopeia said. "Block six!"

Cassiopeia leapt, and Sabrina unleashed seventy five percent, forcing her torn body to charge. Eleven blades raced to meet them. Sabrina blocked five and slapped a sixth aside while Cassiopeia deflected the rest. Cysthus's arms closed in, but Cassiopeia kicked off Sabrina's chest, flipping over the attacks, pushing Sabrina back to the ground. Nothing remained between Cassiopeia and Cysthus's head. Cassiopeia raised both claymores high.

Cysthus ducked.

Sabrina kicked off the ground and rammed his throat, reversing his momentum just as Cassiopeia's yoki exploded with the Divine Cleaver.

Sabrina landed in a hot rain of blue. Her ears were ringing. The air stank like tar. The abyssal corpse crashed beside her, Cassiopeia standing on what remained of the skull. Both of the commander's arms were blackening with bruises from the force of her Divine Cleaver, blood oozing from the cracks beneath her fingernails. She stumbled off the corpse and sank to one knee.

"Addis, confirm it," Cassiopeia said.

Addis attacked Cysthus's exposed brain, hacking it into smaller and smaller bits. Sabrina giggled. Confirming kills looked like fun. She wondered if her Carnage Draw could cut into Cysthus's heart in two hits, or would it take three? She sheathed her sword and walked forward, but Cassiopeia caught her by the wrist.

"What?" Sabrina asked.

"Your yoki."

The god cackled with Sabrina's mouth. Sabrina snarled. Damn sneaky god. If it weren't for Cassiopeia, she might've been too busy mutilating a corpse to notice herself pass eighty percent. She closed her eyes, breathing deep as Cassiopeia's yoki calmed her. The strength left her muscles, and she collapsed, the stinging of her chest wounds catching up to her. She opened her eyes. Once again, the god was gone - she was just Sabrina.

Addis stood over them, the destruction of Cysthus's brain complete.

"Casualty report on single digits." Cassiopeia said. "What did you sense?"

"Of the single digits, nine, eight, seven, five, and four are dead," Addis said.

"So that's the power of an abyssal," Cassiopeia said. "We'll need to get tougher if the other two battles are like that."

"I recall the Organization predicting that the second and third battles will be harder," Addis said. "Also, we will be weaker without four and five. Four was particularly useful."

"Yes, she is. As far as I'm concerned, number Four is right here," Cassiopeia said, nodding toward Sabrina.


	9. Tunnel Vision

Catalina felt invincible, like her body was made of claymore metal. On the heaving decks of ships, her warriors had faced two hundred of the asarakam - the blue blooded yoma of the mainland - and destroyed every last one of them. They'd captured twenty galleys, and a thousand enemy archers, oarsmen, and sailors, who might have been slaughtered by undisciplined warriors, were taken prisoner instead. Now, as the sun set, Catalina stood at the cloven gates of Trona, sixty warriors at her back.

On her right, number Six waited with her hands folded behind her. Six was one of those warriors with long ears, which stuck so far from either side of her bob of silver hair that she couldn't wear a helm. The lack of helm contributed Six's shortness - the little warrior barely came up to Catalina's chin.

"Number six," Catalina said. "What do you sense inside the city?"

"The asarakam are dead," Six said.

"Warriors," Catalina said, "disperse through the city and assist the number One's forces in subduing any human soldiers who oppose us. There will be no unnecessary bloodshed, no vandalism, and no looting. Does anyone see a flaw in this plan?"

"Yeees."

 _Dear goddesses no._ Catalina pursed her lips. "Four Eleven. I ordered all warriors below two hundred to guard the ships and prisoners."

"Yes, fearless leader, you did. Buuut, Four Eleven is above two hundred mathematically even if it's below two hundred in rank. You should really find some less ambiguous words to use."

Catalina swallowed her first instinct, which was to order the undisciplined woman back to the ships. Based on past experience, Four Eleven might have seen an actual flaw in Catalina's orders, in which case it was Catalina's duty to cut through Four Eleven's absurdity, find the flaw, and change the orders.

"Is there a flaw?" Catalina asked.

"Nope," Four Eleven said. "I was just wondering if borrowing scrolls from asarakam houses counts as looting?"

"Six, Four Eleven, stay here," Catalina said. "Everyone else, move out. Four Eleven, what do you want with the scrolls of yoma?"

"Well eveeentually, all the yoma will be dead, and then we'll want to make peace with the humans, right? But oops, some of the humans talk in hisses, and we were too busy beheading yoma to learn their language and culture, so I guess it's wartime foreeever."

"You want scrolls on linguistics," Catalina said.

"Don't forget culture and history," Four Eleven said.

"Fine," Catalina said.

Four Eleven skipped into Trona, her pack bouncing as she stepped on the bodies of awakened asarakam.

"Come, number Six," Catalina said. "We should regroup with the leadership."

Catalina walked onto the carpet of dead, careful to avoid treading on the fallen warriors and humans mixed in with the heaps of yoma. The asarakam squished underfoot and reeked as though they'd been dead for days.

"May I speak, Catalina?" number Six said. "I have a concern."

"Of course, number Six. You are my superior. I hope I have not breached protocol by failing to offer you leadership."

"Not at all. Cassiopeia put you in charge, and you've done a spectacular job. Besides, even though I think observing rank is important, on a personal level, I'm not comfortable giving orders."

"Why not?"

"If something horrible happens, I don't want it to be my responsibility," Techne said. "Cowardly, I know, but that's the truth. You lost only fifty warriors to capture an entire fleet today. You should be proud. But if I was in charge, I'd just obsess over the fifty. A good leader has to be willing to kill her closest comrades, which is why you're perfect for it, Comrade Killer Catalina."

Catalina grimaced at a heap of mutilated human soldiers as they passed. "You mistake me. I only kill warriors who betray us. I don't think about those we lost because, as warriors, they committed to die fighting yoma, just as I have."

"I see."

"In fact, I'm not comfortable _not_ being in charge. I cannot count on my superiors to make the right choices."

"About that," number Six said, "myself and the others who came to reinforce you - we left Cassiopeia sort of in protest over some of her orders."

Catalina stopped, rounding on number Six. "Tell me her _exact words_ number Six."

"Kill everything living. Raze everything standing."

Catalina's eyes warmed as they changed color. Molten iron shot through her bones. She could see it now - she'd assumed the devastation around her was a result of the battle at Trona's gate, but no, the buildings themselves had been cut to rubble. The screams echoing over the city were not just the cries of the wounded, but the sounds of a massacre.

Catalina sprinted up the street, moving toward the largest concentration of yoki she could feel.

"Wait!" Six said, keeping pace. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to kill number One."

Number Six sped in front of Catalina and spread her arms, blocking her path. "Wai- Wait!"

" _Get out of my way_."

Number Six shrank back, her mouth open. Catalina dashed past her, but Six was keeping pace again a moment later.

"You've got to think about this," Six said. " _Can_ you even kill her?"

"Yes."

"Who's going to lead us?"

"The only person I can trust to lead - me."

"Is it right to trust someone who's this quick to kill off our strongest fighter when we're in enemy territory?"

Catalina grimaced, her pace slowing. She had been wrong twice in Sutafu, first when she was willing to jeopardize their mission to kill an awakened, and second when she had not realized that, by attacking number Forty Four, she was risking creating the most powerful awakened being since Lucy's Inferno. Both times, Four Eleven had talked Catalina down before the damage became irreversible. Catalina faced number Six.

"I recognize that not everything is black and white," Catalina said. "But how can I be wrong here? She's murdering an entire city. Tens - maybe a hundred thousand people. In the five years since the Organization was formed, we haven't saved _half_ that many lives! Everything we've worked for is _dying_ around us! You can hear it _dying_! You can hear it _dying_!"

A trio of warriors stepped out of an alley, their claymores wet with red blood - _human_ blood. "Do you need help? We heard shouting," one said.

"Run!" Six said.

Catalina was at the alley instantly, her left hand stretched toward evil, her stabbing hand poised. She thrust, and the weight of the claymore felt _right_ in her clenched fingers. Six rammed her from the side, sending her flying through a wall and into a building, which collapsed. She rolled so that her armored side was up, and bore the burden of stone that crashed upon her. Her leg snapped, but she healed it easily and stood from the rubble.

The three murderers were gone. Only Six remained. Catalina stormed toward her.

"Please, Catalina, those girls were under Cassiopeia's orders. Only Cassiopeia is really responsible."

"Orders excuse some things," Catalina said. "They don't excuse _that_."

Catalina pointed at the bodies by Six's feet - not unusual bodies - just two among the heaps; an old woman hunched protectively over a child. The woman was split from shoulder to anus. The child was still sobbing, though his guts lay on the street beside him.

Six covered her mouth, gagging.

"What?" Catalina said. "That didn't bother you until you looked closely? Are you going to tell me that _that's_ a nuanced ethical situation? That _that's_ anything but evil?"

Six fell back against the wall, and Catalina stalked closer, thrusting down to end the child's agony as she passed.

Six drew her claymore and held it in front of her, hands shaking. "Get back!"

"I am not going to hurt you," Catalina said. "You refused number One's order. You are my comrade, but are you going to tell me the warrio- the _yoma_ that did this don't deserve death?"

"They do," Six said. "All the warriors sacking the city do. Are you going to kill every one of them? A hundred warriors and all the single digits?"

"I just might."

Catalina turned her back on Six and dashed toward the largest concentration of yoki, descending into the lowest part of Trona, where soot blackened the tenements and the sound of ocean waves gave way to a cacophony of hammering that seemed to vibrate up from beneath the cobblestones. At the end of a street, a ramp of iron plunged underground. She walked into the darkness, though her silver eyes could still make out the worn metal walls around her, the scratches in their surfaces dancing as waves of heat billowed up from below, stinking of coal. She could sense Six following.

The bottom of the ramp leveled into a walkway between a sea of of molten metal on the left and a sea of fire on the right. Catalina had seen iron refineries in Rabona, but the City of Steel's version was more like a cathedral to metal. Bellows the size of awakened beings thundered around the edges of the flames, and overhead, among grids of catwalks, vats taller than Catalina rumbled along hanging tracks, emerging from tunnels in the walls, crawling over the inferno, and then pouring their sun-bright contents into the molten sea before returning to the tunnels.

Catalina looked for the source of all this mechanical power, her eyes following the iron gears and shafts back to cages set in the walls. There was an axle as thick as a mast in every cage, and eight warriors harnessed to every axle. The warriors' eyes were stitched shut. Their arms were stumps. They trudged around their axles, heads bowed. From what Catalina could tell, the chains of their harnesses had been stabbed through them, and when they'd unleashed yoki to regenerate, their bodies had healed over the metal, making their bonds permanent. Catalina ground her teeth. They must have seemed perfect slaves to the asarakam. Warriors were strong and tireless, they needed little food or water, and they could withstand the heat rising off the sea of metal. With a regular supply of yoki suppressants to keep them from awakening, they could turn these wheels for decades - perhaps centuries. How _clever_. The asarakam weren't yoma after all - they were somehow, unimaginably, even _worse_ than yoma, and very soon, she would exterminate their entire species. But she couldn't afford to be distracted; the asarakam weren't within her reach right now, and number One was.

Two dozen warriors stood at the far end of the room where the walkway terminated under an iron statue of a dragon. The warriors were speaking and pointing at the slaves in the walls. Among them stood number One, number Three, and number Forty Four, or whatever she had been demoted to, all three of them bandaged, their auras drained. Catalina was surprised they could even stand. They certainly couldn't defend themselves.

Catalina charged. Number One saw her coming, jumped back, and fell to her knees, clutching her bloody sides. Three and Forty Four stood in front of One while the rest of the warriors rushed to meet Catalina. Only a few were even in the top hundred. Catalina stabbed them down in quick succession, leaving the walkway strewn with writhing traitors. She started toward the number One, but Six blocked her path.

"I can't let you do this," Six said.

 _A small wound, just to slow her down while I kill number One,_ Catalina thought.

The claymore was heavy in Catalina's fingers. Unleashing seventy percent yoki into her right arm and left leg, she Thrust at Six's knee.

Six disarmed her. Catalina blinked.

"I saw it," number One said. "At the moment she stabs, Eleven focuses her yoki into her stabbing arm. Six, if you don't activate yoki before she uses its full power, she'll kill you in one hit."

"Using yoki is unhealthy," Six said, "and Catalina wouldn't kill me. We're not going to fight."

Catalina stepped on a wounded traitor's wrist and ripped the claymore from her grip.

"Please Catalina," Six said. "You have to stop. The Organization will call for your head if you go any farther."

"If they have the moral authority they claim, they will take my side," Catalina said.

Catalina charged again, and this time she unleashed one hundred percent - the true form of the Thrust, which, save for one fluke on terrible footing, no asarakam, warrior, or awakened had ever blocked.

Six sidestepped, caught the hilt of Catalina's sword, and tugged it from Catalina's grip.

 _What?_

"Calm down and talk to me, please," Six said. "We can figure this out."

Six's eyes were still silver. Catalina gaped. The number One _might_ be able to block the Thrust - at fifty percent or higher.

 _I'm not comfortable giving orders_ , number Six had said. What if the strongest warrior in an era had no ambition? What rank would she end up occupying?

"Six," Catalina said. "You have deliberately kept your rank low."

"That's not important right now," Six said. "Please, let's talk this out."

"What do you want from me Six? In the alley you said the responsibility fell on number One. Now you want to spare number One too! A hundred thousand murders can't just go unpunished. Someone has to pay."

"We can report it to the organization after the war," Six said.

"I do not trust the Organization."

Six cast a furtive glance at the number One and lowered her voice. "We can talk to her about it together. I think she's just misguided, so she might listen. And if she keeps doing this sort of thing, I'll get out of your way after the war. If she's really that bad, I'll even go with you."

"This isn't just about stopping her. It's about what she's already done. Do you understand how deeply she's betrayed us? We gave up our lives when we became warriors. We doomed ourselves to years of battles ending in death by yoma's claws or the black card. We did it because we wanted to protect people. If number One has turned her back on that and started _killing_ people, then she has awakened in all but flesh, and the price of awakening is always death."

"And what happens after you kill her?" Six asked. "Addis and Leah will be out for revenge, so you'll need to get rid of them too, and after that, everyone will be afraid that they're next on your list. They'll pretend to follow you, at least at first, but the friends of the people you've killed in the past will rebel. If they wanted, the asarakam could leave us alone, and we'd end up destroying ourselves. Even if that didn't happen, you and I would be the only single digits left. Do you really think the two of us can carry this war on our own?"

"Together, we have a chance," Catalina said.

"That seems too optimistic," Six said.

"At least _try_ with me," Catalina said. "I cannot bear the alternative. To follow an awakened being - to approach an awakened being with anything but the intent to kill - I cannot _bear_ it. How can you stand there protecting her? How can you not feel the same fury I do?"

"You're brave, Catalina," Six said. "Not like me. While you see everyone you could save by killing Cassiopeia, I can only think about everything you could ruin. The whole war might hinge on whether or not you kill her, and if we lose the war everyone back home _and_ on the mainland could end up ruled by yoma. Do you think they'd let us keep the secrets of how to make warriors? Of course not. In a generation, the warriors would be gone, and only humans and yoma would be left, and there would be no one to free us then - people would be the food of yoma _forever_. I don't care how far Cassiopeia sinks, I can't let you risk so much. I'll never be that brave."

"If I spare her, then we are already ruled by a yoma," Catalina said.

Catalina pried a claymore from a traitor's hand and readied the Thrust. Six had avoided it once, but Catalina hadn't unleashed any yoki to close distance, which made a difference in the instantaneity of the technique. More importantly, Catalina had been aiming for the leg. Her Thrust was harder to dodge when targeted at the body.

"Step aside," Catalina said. "My next thrust will be the deadliest I can give."

"Please don't hurt me," number Six said, but she didn't step aside.

Catalina unleashed forty percent. Molten yoki seared her bones, her eyes, her sword arm, evil seeping through her body.

"I'm sorry," Catalina said, and charged.

The little warrior sidestepped, and the Thrust sheared through the edge of her breastplate. Six yelped, stepping back, but Catalina knew Six wasn't incapacitated yet, so she Thrust again. Six's parry morphed into a compound riposte that sliced Catalina from hip to shoulder. Catalina leapt back, but Six followed up with a double feint that ended with the claymore stuck through Catalina's thigh.

Catalina let seventy percent yoki flash through her intact leg and launched herself up to one of the catwalks. She fell to her knees the moment she landed, pulling the claymore from her leg. on the walkway below, Six knelt as well. Both of Catalina's Thrusts had drawn blood, but Six's armor kept Catalina from seeing the full extent of the wounds.

"Those moves," Catalina called, "they do not belong to the Isley style or any I have studied. I thought I had studied them all."

"Why are we doing this Catalina? I'll die, oh goddesses I'll die!"

Catalina stood, sixty percent yoki sealing her wounds. Her muscles bulged like a yoma's, fangs filling her mouth. She jumped down onto the walkway, and number Six staggered to her feet, shaking, crying.

"Please, Catalina, I'm too scared to hold back. I don't want to kill you."

Catalina looked away from Six's face. _What am I doing?_ In the current situation, Catalina wore the face of a yoma, number One was the victim, and Six was the warrior. Catalina's jaw tightened at the image, but her feelings didn't matter. A hundred thousand people were dying. Number One had to pay.

Since Six had failed to block the Thrust fully after a forty percent charge, sixty percent would run the little warrior through. Catalina took her stance. _Rabon, if you have any justice in you, let number Six survive this._

Catalina and Six charged. Catalina unleashed the Thrust, and this time, Six did not sidestep; she stopped and recoiled. Catalina's sword shot toward Six's heart, but the point barely reached her breastplate. The Thrust was fully extended - Six's charge had fooled Catalina. It was a simple technique, but one that took absolute mastery of range to execute.

Six knocked Catalina's claymore aside and closed distance, and Catalina found herself using all her speed just to keep Six's blade from slicing too deep too often. Catalina tried to establish distance for another Thrust, but Six flowed after, opening Catalina's shoulder. Catalina racked her brain for any weaknesses in her opponent, and found many, yet Six continued to score hits until Catalina's legs collapsed from one too many wounds, and the taller warrior fell to her hands and knees. There was something fundamentally different about the extent and nature of Six's training. Catalina was a trainee at the feet of her swordmaster.

"How dare you," Catalina hissed.

"I'm sorry," Six said. "Will you stop now?"

"How _dare_ you let Cassiopeia be number One!" Catalina said. "You should have been giving orders all along. You never would have ordered Trona destroyed. This all happened because of your weakness!"

Six winced. "I don't think I would make much of a leader. We would lose the war under me."

"Is that what you tell yourself?," Catalina said.

"I'm not the kind of person you think I am," Six said. "I only trained so hard in order to feel safe. I wanted to protect people, but never in the enormous sense you're talking about. I can't be a great person, I just want to be good. Isn't that enough?"

"You cannot be a good person - you have too much power," Catalina said. "someone like you is either great, or a failure."

"Catalina," Six said. "I ca- _dodge_!"

Catalina dodged right; a claymore hacked off her left arm. She whirled on her attacker and saw number Two, the assassin. Catalina burned the last of her energy to heal her three remaining limbs enough to use the Thrust, but before she could charge, six came to her defense, severing the tendons in Two's sword hand. Yoki flared as number Two cast aside years of suppression, barely dodging Six's follow up in time to avoid having her throat slit.

Catalina dashed toward number One. With Six and Two occupied, only numbers Three and Forty Four stood between Catalina and her target, and neither was in any shape to stand, much less fight. Forty Four staggered toward Catalina's fallen arm, and Catalina knew there was no time to save the arm _and_ kill number One - Addis's yoki was already dead; Six was coming.

Number Three swung for Catalina's head. Without breaking her pace, Catalina shoved Three into the sea of fire, where she burned, shrieking. Number One managed to raise her swords to a guard position, but her muscles trembled from the effort. Catalina Thrust at her heart.

Six shoved number One out of the way, and the Thrust blasted through both the little warrior's arms, sending them spinning into liquid metal. Six's screams mingled with Three's. Catalina shuddered and nearly cast her claymore aside, but the iron in her bones kept her moving. One hundred thousand people. Someone had to pay.

Number one inclined her head. "Kill me, and you'll regret it. I promise you."

Catalina ran her through - once, twice, thrice. Number One groaned, but did not fall, so Catalina let the steel in her arm run wild, stabbing a dozen times in an instant. Number One collapsed into a pool of her own blood. Her braids soaked through. She was number One no more. She was Cassiopeia, the slain awakened.

The steel drained out of Catalina's bones. She turned away from Cassiopeia and saw the path she'd trod, soaked in blood that glimmered in the orange light of the inferno. Warriors lay strewn upon the walkway, some recovering, others dying, and Catalina realized that she didn't know which were comrades and which were yoma - she'd stabbed them all alike. She sheathed her sword. At the end of the walkway, number Six staggered into the darkness of the ramp.

"Wait," Catalina said.

Catalina ran between fire and molten metal as Six disappeared. Six had to be able to heal - her personality was obviously that of a defensive type. Catalina wanted to stop thinking there, but with the metal out of her bones, her reason was back, dragging her into more complicated thoughts.

With Six's level of fighting skill, she might never have sustained a wound before. If that was true, then she would have to learn regeneration from scratch, and given that she didn't seem to use yoki either, she might even have to practice _that_ from scratch. It could take years.

"Wait!" Catalina said.

Catalina could have caught up, if she'd really wanted to, but how could she possibly help? How could she even talk to Six? Sorry I crippled you for life? Sorry I took away the strength that made you feel safe?

The reason in Catalina finished waking up, and an even darker realization stabbed into her. The strongest warrior of the era had been a good person. Now, a cripple was a good person. Catalina covered her face with her hand. Tunnel vision - that had been her downfall. The moment Six dodged the Thrust, Catalina should have made it her first priority to keep Six safe. If Catalina had helped Six overcome her timidity over the course of months or years, the world could have had a second Phantom Miria, perhaps even a second purge. Now that future was with the ashes of Six's arms, sunken in molten metal.

 _I can never be this again,_ she thought. _From now on, my fury will serve my reason. I swear it._

* * *

Sabrina couldn't look away. The walkway writhed with her fallen comrades, dead, dying, and crippled. Addis, who had saved Sabrina and Cassiopeia from Cysthus not two hours ago, lay dead in her own blood, her tendons and throat slit for the crime of trying to defend her captain. And Leah. Goddesses, Leah, who'd stood in Catalina's way without the slightest chance of victory. Sabrina understood that. For Cassiopeia's closest friend, it would be unbearable to step aside and watch Catalina murder the Captain. Better to stand in the way, and let the consequences follow.

Sabrina trudged to Cassiopeia's side. The Captain was in the final throes of death, blood gushing from the shredded mess of her torso. Sabrina pulled her into a sitting position against the wall, and, reaching into Cassiopeia's bloodsoaked hair, made a new braid, thicker than all the others.

"For killing Cysthus," Sabrina said. "You were amazing. If not for Catalina, you would have been our second Miria, Captain."

A tear fell down Cassiopeia's cheek. Sabrina averted her eyes. Cassiopeia wouldn't cry from pain. Was it the deaths of Addis and Leah that finally broke the Captain's stoicism? Or was it the death of Cassiopeia's dreams? Or was Cassiopeia weeping for the fate of the army she'd left behind, facing a hopeless war? Sabrina looked at the slaves in cages along the walls. That's where the army was likely to end up. That's where Gretta was likely to end up. Sabrina's fists shook. Catalina had once called Sabrina a murderer. Damned hypocrite.

Cassiopeia's yoki blazed to life. Sabrina whirled. The Captain was on her hands and knees, her back regenerating beneath the tatters of her uniform.

 _She's awakening_ , Sabrina thought. _She'll be an abyssal!_

Despite her wounds, Sabrina slashed at Cassiopeia's head, but her swing swerved aside.

"Good," Cassiopeia grated out. "You still have strength to kill me. I'll order you to do so soon. Next time, I won't stop you."

"Why did you heal yourself?" Sabrina said. "I've never had to kill a comrade. I never wanted to."

"Neither did I," Cassiopeia said. "But now. . . Now. . . I have an order for you, number Four."

"Catalina," Sabrina said. "I know."

"Not just her. Two asarakam lords remain. . . you're the only single digit left. Kill them."

Sabrina's eyebrows rose. "Two abyssals _and_ Catalina. I'll be lucky just to kill Catalina."

"Right," Cassiopeia said. "Even I would. . . lose to those three. So surpass me!"

"I could train for ten years and I still wouldn't surpass you. The gap in yoki is too great."

Cassiopeia struggled to her feet, drool spilling from her fanged mouth. "You will surpass me _now_."

Cassiopeia's sword thrummed, shearing off Sabrina's left arm. Sabrina cried out, staggering back. Cassiopeia strode after her.

 _Did she awaken? She didn't change form._

"Strike back," Cassiopeia said.

Sabrina slashed at Cassiopeia's chest, but the blade swerved, cutting off Cassiopeia's arm instead. The Captain dropped her sword to catch her severed arm and tackled Sabrina, pressing the arm to the stump of Sabrina's own. Sabrina hissed, struggling, but against Cassiopeia, it was hopeless.

"Heal it," Cassiopeia said.

Synchronized yoki poured into Sabrina. As soon as Sabrina healed the arm in place, Cassiopeia stepped back, but the yoki intensified.

"I'm done healing," Sabrina said.

"I'm not syncing," Cassiopeia said. "It's the arm."

Sabrina lifted her new hand.

"You chew your fingernails?" Sabrina said.

"Shut up and take the other arm."

Sabrina did. Normally, she didn't notice her yoki when it wasn't activated, but with Cassiopeia's arms, she was hyperaware of the alien yoki humming in her veins. It was colder than the yoki she was used to - less like lightning and more like ice. Sabrina healed the wounds on her chest, and found that doing so took barely any power at all.

"You are now both offensive and defensive," Cassiopeia said.

"Then Catalina's done for," Sabrina said.

"Even now, you'd lose" Cassiopeia said. "You have. . . the yoki, but not the skill. Don't attack her. . . until you master my technique."

"The Divine Cleaver," Sabrina said.

"No," Cassiopeia said. "Its true name. . . Wave Motion Awakening."

* * *

 _Catalina finally gets a chapter_

 _Synchronizers can't heal Techne because (A) the synchronizers have all exhausted their yoki during the battle (B) synchronizers only reinforce a warrior's own yoki, and lack of yoki isn't Techne's problem, it's lack of healing skill._

 _Drunken Helen: Hey waaait, didn't Cass heal Sabrina's chest while Sabrina was unconscious two chapters ago? How could Sabrina's yoki do the healing when she's napping?_

 _Unlike Techne, Sabrina gets wounded constantly when she fights despite how good Carnage is for dodging (her fundamental swords skills are sloppy). She's expert at healing by now, and does it almost unconsciously._


	10. World Domination

The mainland's landscape was bizarre. In the woods around Rabona, trees stood a reasonable distance apart, and forest floors were made of dirt, like the ground was supposed to be. On the mainland, the forest floor was moss, with bursts of ferns and flowers reaching chest height. The trees were at least two times as large as normal, and they were always dripping from the last rain. Sabrina scowled whenever she had to push through wet ferns to get anywhere, but if she got in a fight, she'd be able to carnage up and down trees, leap between them, and shove her spikes through the moss while her opponents were slipping. For that kind of advantage, she was willing to put up with a few ferns.

"Do you suppose we brought enough support?" Susan asked.

Sabrina glanced over her shoulder at the dozen warriors who followed. All were in the top hundred. None would make a difference against Comrade Killer Catalina.

"If Catalina attacks, leave her to me. Just keep the slaves off my back and stay alive."

"Yes Captain, understood," Susan said.

Sabrina strode into a patch of jungle where the undergrowth had been hacked away. In the center, a rock slab was cleared of moss, and on the far side of the stone stood Catalina. Sabrina glared. Cassiopeia's yoki stirred in Sabrina's arms, as if responding to her murderer. At Catalina's back were a dozen of the slave warriors they'd freed from the ironworks, clothed in the ragged uniforms of the warriors who died taking Trona, and among them, toward the back, was Gretta. Sabrina stopped short. Gretta was siding against her? Was she that angry? No. Gretta wasn't the angry type - her presence on Catalina's side had to be the result of some sort of plot, but even so, it was problematic. Sabrina had been trying to think of a way to fix things with Gretta, and doing so would be even more complicated now that Gretta was on the opposite side of the succession conflict. Sabrina turned to Susan.

"No one touches the redhead," Sabrina muttered.

"Yes Captain," Susan said. "Actually, I already presumed to tell the others that last week. As a yoki synchronizer, I can read the signs."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "Fine."

"Number Forty Four," Catalina said.

"Pardon me," Susan said, "but number Forty Four isn't here right now. Perhaps you'd like to speak to number One, Sabrina, instead?"

Catalina went to cross her arms, but she only _had_ one arm left, so she clenched her fist instead. Sabrina smirked.

" _I_ am number One," Catalina said. "But I understand there is a dispute, so I will address the former number Forty Four as. . . number Two until it is settled."

"How generous of you," Susan said. "I hope you realize that Cassiopeia could not _possibly_ have marked her successor more clearly. The only dispute should be over who gets to carry out your execution for treason."

"Cassiopeia forfeited her leadership by betraying the principles all warriors share," Catalina said.

"Oh?" Sabrina said. "If all warriors share them, why are the slaves your only supporters?

"Your ethics remind me of a child's," Susan said. "Leaving aside all the things I'd like to say regarding the greater good, have you even considered tactical necessity? Trying to occupy Trona would have been impossible."

"Wroooong," Gretta heaved a pile of scrolls onto the rock. "I've been reading all these scrolls, and they say Trona was the Alliance capital until it got sacked by the asarakam almost thirty years ago. So if you think about it, the humans probably would've been happy to help out, no occupation needed."

"That can't be true," Susan said. "The Organization's spies gave us excellent intelligence. They couldn't have missed a detail that pertinent."

One of the slaves trudged forward, hunched. Unlike most of the others, this one had already regenerated both arms, and she held them curled in front of her chest, knuckles crooked, trembling. A tattered hood covered her lack of hair.

"I am Hate, the First Who Howled," the slave warrior said. "I killed for the Alliance in its death throes. Trona was the capital."

The other slave warriors nodded, some calling wordlessly, their tongues not yet regenerated. Susan rubbed her chin.

"I'm convinced," Sabrina said. "But Cassiopeia didn't know that, and Susan's right, the Organization's spies _must_ have known. They chose not to tell us. That's not all. When we confronted Cysthus, he had no idea what the Organization was, and said that some spy named Rubel betrayed him by reporting us islanders destroyed. The asarakam at the Cataclysm weren't even an invasion force, but a colony group. The Organization sent us here telling us it was a defensive war, but it's starting to look like an Organization power grab to me. The asarakam clearly weren't planning on attacking us."

Catalina narrowed her eyes. "If that's true, then the Organization probably _wanted_ Trona destroyed. Though, the Organization spies could just be less competent than we are assuming."

"Actually," Gretta said. "I've worked with those guys a bit, and they're scaaary thorough. They probably know more about what the asarakam know than the _asarakam_ know about what the asarakam know, you know? Know know know."

Sabrina and Catalina glared at each other, because the Organization wasn't present to glare at.

"It hardly makes a difference right now," Sabrina said. "We need to slaughter the asarakam first."

"I could not agree more," Catalina said. "The Organization will give us answers afterward."

"Right," Sabrina said. _Not that you'll be alive to hear those answers, Comrade Killer._

"So aaanyway," Gretta said. "It looks to me like neither of you can go to war against the other, or you'll lose to the asarakam, so share rulership nicely, okay? Don't do anything without agreeing with the other one first, or you'll end up in a battle that only helps the asarakam. Agreed?"

Sabrina frowned. Sabrina had the advantage over Catalina in numbers, but the power of the slave warriors was completely unknown.

"Deal," Sabrina said.

"Agreed," Catalina said.

Sabrina and Susan joined Catalina, Gretta, and Hate around the rock.

"First," Sabrina said, "what are we going to do with your captives from the navy?"

"I freed them," Catalina said.

"How impolite," Susan said. "You predicted you'd have to agree not to take action without the Captain's approval, so you freed your prisoners before striking the deal. I suppose we'll simply have to catch them before they can report what they've seen to the asarakam."

Catalina smiled. "You will never find them in this jungle. Unlike us, they have no aura to track."

"And the information?" Susan asked. "Those humans know our numbers, our equipment, and over the last few days, some of the sharper ones might have deduced from the confusion in camp that our leadership is divided. Releasing that information is. . . deeply stupid."

"Your completely right," Gretta said. "Or you wooould be if it weren't for the asarakam's way of making babies and its effects on their culture and their _culture's_ effect on their military thinking."

Gretta pulled an armful of moss from the jungle floor and dumped it on the rock next to her scrolls.

"Get ready for class everyone," Gretta said. "This is reeeally weird stuff." She flourished a chunk of moss. "This moss represents an asarakam. Notice anything about it? That's right. It has no boobs. No naughty bits at all, in fact. When two asarakam love each other very much, they use a yoki technique called _Heshfithcys_ , which literally translates to. . . dragon brain puddle? Anyway, the meaning translates to the melting together of dragon's brains. For now, we'll just call it dragon sex. It's way more complicated and dangerous than regular sex."

"The danger is not to them," Hate said. "But to humans, and to us."

Gretta threw a chunk of moss into Hate's hood. "Don't get ahead of me, you. Now, there are three stages of dragon sex. First, the lovers press against each other and meld their yoki using _Heshfithcys_ , which sticks their bodies together and puts them in a coma. Once they're like that, their thoughts and memories swirl together in a sort of shared dream. But they need a looot more yoki to make a powerful baby, so, step two: they explode into a five thousand foot tall monster that devours all the life energy of everything in reach!"

Gretta flung all the moss into the air. Sabrina wasn't sure Gretta had any idea how an object lesson was supposed to work.

"That's the dangerous part," Gretta said. "The more powerful the lovers, the bigger the monster. For most lovers, it's actually pretty small, so the parents chain humans nearby beforehand to make sure they can reach enough juice to make a baby out of. Buuut, when _royalty_ make babies, thousands of humans get tossed in, and the monster is sometimes big enough to put scars on the landscape. I'm still new to this, so I'm just guessing, but I'd bet the whole reason asarakam like to rule over humans is so they have a good source of life force to make strong babies. One of my scrolls even said that Cysthus's parents filled a canyon with ten thousand sacrifices before mating at the bottom, so that when they started feeding, they were submerged in a lake of blood, and that's why Cysthus turned into such an adorable little swimmer."

Gretta beamed. Everyone else gaped at her.

"Eeeh?" Gretta said. "Those were the scroll's words, not mine! it was written by asarakam, okay? As I was saying, when they've eaten as much energy as they can, they go into stage three, which is a suuuper gross lumpy blob that works like a cocoon. If they got enough energy in stage two, this is when the baby shows up in the shared dream, and all three asarakam mix memories together and teach the child how to talk, and name it. When they're done in there, the parents climb out. They touch the cocoon together, and call the child's name. The cocoon does a quick check with some feelers to make sure its the parents, and then the child comes out, and that's that."

Gretta kept her face straight, but she was bouncing a tiny bit, which Sabrina recognized as the suppressed version of the skipping she'd done when she discovered the giant angry lemon.

"Since this happens every generation," Gretta said, "the child doesn't just remember its parent's lives, but also all the memories its grandparents shared with its parents, on and on back to their family's ancestor dragon, and then through the dragons to the first dragon, Asarakam the Invincible."

"Wait a moment," Susan said. "If the asarakam all possess thousands of years of experience, how did we defeat them at Trona?"

Gretta scratched her head, "Beats me. Maybe they don't train much?"

"No," Hate said. "It is because it takes a lifetime to comprehend so many memories. That is why asarakam strengthen with age."

"Oh, so _that's_ it," Gretta said. "The stronger-with-age thing has had the research guys stumped for a looong time."

"Pardon me," Susan said, "but how does any of this relate to the wisdom of letting the prisoners go?"

"It doesn't." Gretta said. "Not ooone bit. I just wanted to catch you up on all the interesting stuff I've been reading. Education is important you know." Gretta giggled. "You should see your face, Susan. It actually does relate back, kind of. See, for us, yoki is something to practice, but for the asarakam, it's so natural it's like sex. I mean, it actually _is_ sex. yoki is just part of their bodies, and that means their powers are fixed. Just like we can't change the way our bodies breathe or swallow, the asarakam can't change the way their bodies use yoki, and just like we can't learn to grow wings and fly, asarakam can't learn any yoki techniques they weren't born with. Basically, they get yoki sensing, dragon sex, and some kind of secret, ultimate technique for free, but they can't get anything else. Of course, there must be other limitations on the ultimate technique, or we would have been wiped out a thousand times back at Trona. So, guess what technique _isn't_ on their list of freebies."

Sabrina remembered the fight with Cysthus. One thing _had_ struck her as odd about him. Despite being an abyssal, he hadn't healed at all. Sabrina still felt too awkward around Gretta to give the answer though.

"Regeneration," Hate said.

"Yep," Gretta said.

Catalina frowned. "That is an enormous weakness."

"Well it is _now_ ," Gretta said, "but remember that yoki wasn't originally an asarakam power, it's a dragon power, and if there's anything asarakam records agree on about dragons, it's that they were compleeetely invincible. Even other dragons couldn't hurt them, so they wouldn't have any use for regeneration."

Gretta unrolled one of her scrolls, showing an ink drawing of a dozen dragons wheeling through the clouds, some ramming into each other, others dragging each other to the ground.

"Way back when, dragon politics were pretty simple. Everyone would pile into a big fight, and whoever came out on top got to rule as the number One - the _Sharytt_. Dragons fought constantly, but that was fine because they were all invincible. Asarakam weren't so lucky. They tried to copy dragon culture, but without invincibility, they killed each other off waaay too much, which is why they stayed as a little tribe for so long. So anyway, there's this neighboring warlord guy, a human, who gets mad that the asarakam keep kidnapping his subjects to eat their guts. He gets a few other warlords to join him on killing the asarakam, and his enemies start teaming up _with_ the asarakam, and a bunch of other factions jump in to take advantage of the chaos, and that whole thing got reeeally out of control, like, five hundred years of continent-wide total war kinds of out of control. It was bad for humans, but the asarakam ate it up - literally, and it solved their problem of killing themselves off, because with so many humans around to kill, asarakam could show off their strength by slaughtering human armies, and their fellow asarakam wouldn't have to duel them to know they were tough. Duels still happened, but for the most part it was obvious who should be _Sharytt_ because they'd be the ones crushing armies in minutes instead of hours. And that fiiinally brings us back to Catalina's captives. When they report that we have an itty bitty army and divided leadership, the asarakam won't see us as a threat, so instead of fighting us intelligently, they'll all rush out to see who can kill us fastest to prove their strength. I'm not saying we'll _win_ against that, but it'll be a lot easier than sieging their cities for years on end. Aaand that's it for classtime. Any questions, my cute little students?"

Susan confirmed Gretta's facts through Hate, and Sabrina agreed not to hunt down the freed humans.

"Number Six has requested to be discharged," Catalina said. "I would like to provide her with a few of our ships and send her with the former slave warriors who do not wish to fight. Many of the freed ones are offensive types, and will never regenerate their arms. They cannot help us."

"Was Cassiopeia even given authority to discharge soldiers?" Susan asked. "Come to think of it, I've never heard of anyong being discharged."

Sabrina placed her fists on her hips. "Let's make this clear. We're here to kill asarakam for our own reasons. The Organization's authority over us is. . ."

"Under review," Catalina said.

"At best," Sabrina said. "I'm fine with discharging Techne, but tell her not to go back home. The Organization might dispose of cripples."

The rest of the meeting covered training regimens, scouts, and other tactical matters, all of which Sabrina and Catalina agreed on to an extent that infuriated both of them. They finished each other's sentences more than once, glared at each other, and pressed on with gritted teeth. Halfway through arranging marching formations, Catalina slammed the charts shut and stormed off. Sabrina exhaled. At least Catalina had broken first.

"We completed most of the material," Susan said. "The rest can wait until tomorrow."

"Tell the troops about the training regimen," Sabrina said. "We're done for the day."

Sabrina stomped into the jungle, and when she was far enough to be out of range of most yoki sensors, she unleashed a flurry of punches at a tree, hammering through bark and into wood. Filling Cassiopeia's boots was stressful enough without Catalina coming along and _agreeing_ with everything. Did Sabrina really think so much like that traitor? She wished she'd mastered Wave Motion Awakening already, so she could simply kill Catalina and be done with it.

And then there was Gretta. Sabrina's fist burst through the far side of the trunk. Her hand came back sticky, smelling like sap. Gretta was a bit like gut hunger - the longer you went without, the worse you wanted it. It had only been a month since things got awkward between them, and Sabrina was already. . . well, punching holes through trees. She should have talked to Gretta weeks ago, but it was going to be a delicate conversation. She had to reestablish their friendship without letting Gretta get more emotionally involved than she already was, and she absolutely, at all costs, had to avoid getting seduced.

 _Next time I see her alone, I'll talk to her_ , Sabrina thought.

She spent the rest of the day training, shooting waves of yoki up and down her body, and for the first time, she got the rhythm of the Wave Motion correct. It was twilight by the time she made her way back to the clearing they were using as a camp. She scanned for Gretta. There were hundreds of warriors in the clearing, but they were all blonde in white suits while Gretta was a redhead in black, so Sabrina was surprised when she didn't see her immediately. She looked again, and saw a patch of red among the trees, moving.

She followed. Gretta headed north, deeper into the jungle, her progress slow as she pushed through tangles of foliage. Sabrina could have caught up, but she still wasn't sure what to say, and she was also getting curious about what Gretta was up to. She shook her head. Curious as she was, she didn't think it was right to spy on Gretta. She turned back toward camp. She'd talk to Gretta tomorrow.

 _Except the humans are somewhere north_ , she thought. Mainland humans might be a threat to Gretta. Actually, for all Sabrina knew, _any_ human could be a threat to Gretta. So, if Sabrina couldn't leave _or_ spy on Gretta, the only option was to walk up and start talking to her. She'd just think of something to say first. . .

An hour later, Sabrina was still following. It _probably_ wasn't spying, because Gretta was a yoki sensor and presumably could detect Sabrina's aura, but then again it might be, since Gretta had failed to sense Catalina coming when Catalina first attacked Sabrina at the moonlit pool, so the redhead clearly wasn't a perfect sensor.

Ahead, Gretta yelped.

"Owch! What is that?" Gretta said.

Sabrina tensed. A human rose from the foliage in front of Gretta, his hair and beard the color of dirty wolf fur. Sabrina scowled as she recognized him from the mast. He wasn't getting away this time.

"Yoki suppressant dart," the man said.

"But I'm a colorhead! That's overkill! Overkill!"

The man rolled his shoulders. "Can never be too careful with dragon broads. You could've dyed your hair."

"Ow ow ow, you jerk! It's not coming out. Is this thing _barbed_?"

"What are you doing here? We were freed." the man said.

"Well I was _going_ to give you guys an offer, but nooow I'm mad. Maybe I won't after all."

"You're not a messenger from your leaders?" The man said.

"Nope," Gretta said, easing the dart out.

"You're our prisoner then," The man said. "I know there's dragon-broads who want us dead. You agree to come peaceful?"

"I thought you might say that," Gretta said. "That's why I brought-"

The man clicked his tongue, and arrows whizzed from the trees. Sabrina unleashed ten percent, Cassiopeia's yoki giving her the power of a number one. She caught all twenty five arrows, held them up in front of the man's eyes, and dropped them. He cried out, recoiling.

"You!" he said.

"-the number One," Gretta finished, "speaking of overkill."

Sabrina smirked, getting in the man's face. "Do you need this one alive?"

"He's part of my schemes," Gretta said, "buuut, if he agrees to my terms and then we find out he didn't follow through, he's all yours. So mister human, can you get a message to the _Sharytt_?"

"No," he said.

"Okay," Gretta said. "But do you know anyone who can? If you do, I'll give you some gold I got from Trona."

"I might," He turned to the trees. " _Iscuti_ , _fith stithish_."

Archers climbed down from the trees and dispersed into the jungle.

"Follow," the grey haired man said.

Silently, he led them through the underbrush to the edge of a campfire. A boulder loomed over the flames, and atop the boulder sat a man in black, his dark glasses shimmering in the firelight. Seeing them, his grin widened, and he touched the brim of his hat.

"Well well well," the man in black said. "Isn't this nostalgic. . . It's been what, sixty, seventy years?"

The man's voice was eerily high. Sabrina raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't mind me," the man in black said. "You merely reminded me of some. . . beloved children I once raised."

Gretta tossed the grey-haired man a golden necklace. "He's peeerfect," Gretta said. "This is _just_ the type of person I'm used to working with."

The grey haired man disappeared into the jungle, and Gretta twirled and curtsied to the man in black. "I'm Gretta, and this is Sabrina. I'm _very_ glad to meet you."

"Heh. . . I don't think I've ever been greeted so warmly. I am Rubel, a humble, wandering scholar."

"Oooh, so am I, what a coooincidence," Gretta said. "and another coincidence is that Sabrina told us that someone named Rubel betrayed Cysthus by reporting that the people on the western island got destroyed, which, if you think about it, was a lie that ended up getting Draome _and_ Cysthus killed. It's aaalmost like someone with the same name as you has it in for asarakam royalty."

Rubel slid his glasses up his nose. "How suspicious of you. I have no particular hatred of the _Sharytt_."

"So why betray him?" Gretta asked.

"Call it fondness for old friends," Rubel said. "I have nothing but goodwill for your little invasion. If there's anything I can do. . . heh. . . Don't hesitate to ask."

Sabrina grimaced. Was it possible to seem _less_ trustworthy than this guy?

"I'll trust you," Gretta said.

" _Wh-what?_ " Sabrina said.

"His motives are compleeetely mysterious, and he could betray anyone at any time," Gretta said.

"How astute of you," Rubel said.

Sabrina looked back and forth between the people in black. "Hold on. Someone explain this to me,"

"As it stands," Rubel said, "you have no hope of defeating the asarakam. Therefore, adding an unknown can't possibly hurt your chances. . . that is what your companion is thinking."

"Yeppers," Gretta said. "So I'll take you up on your offer, but fiiirst, trade me places. I've got to loom over you two to make this sort of announcement, and you have the best spot for looming right now."

Rubel sighed, but relinquished his spot, and Gretta hopped onto the rock, where she grinned, steepling her fingers. "Get ready everyone, because I'm about to reveal one half of my daaark secrets. Here goes. . . I'm going to take over the world. Well, maybe not all of it, but at _least_ the mainland and Rabona. Are you both okay with that?"

Rubel chuckled. "What an ambitious girl. . . well, in all honesty, that's the ideal goal for you to have.

"Sabrina?" Gretta asked. "If you have a problem with it, I can change plans."

Sabrina frowned. "Not a problem exactly, but how are you going to do it?"

"Weeell," Gretta said. "I was thinking I'd just manipulate things so you'll win the war, Sabrina, and then instead of handing the mainland over to the Organization, I'd make sad puppy eyes at you until you gave it to me."

Sabrina laughed. Goddesses, she'd missed this girl.

"Come ooon," Gretta said. "You know it would work."

"No comment," Sabrina said, "but how are we going to win in the first place?"

"That _is_ the tricky part," Gretta said. "Rubel, can you get a message to the _Sharytt_?"

"Rather than a message," Rubel said. "It's more accurate to say that I'll be questioned about the fall of Trona. Fortunately, the only one who knew I reported the island's destruction was Cysthus itself, so I won't be suspected."

"Perfect," Gretta said. "Tell the _Sharytt_ that I was direeectly responsible for killing Cysthus."

"Should I assume you know where that will lead?" Rubel said.

"yyyup," Gretta said. " _Sthari fith sthari_ \- blood for blood. The _Sharytt_ will challenge me to a duel. Buuut, since he's awakened and I'm not, I get three non-awakened champions to help me, right?"

Rubel nodded.

"So it'll be Sabrina, Catalina, and, well, it would've been Techne, but now it's. . . I guess Hate? Whatever - the others are just distractions. I'm betting eeeverything on you Sabrina. I know it's a long shot, but it's less impossible than fighting through all the armies. The moment you kill the _Sharytt_ , the mainland is yours. Are you up for it?"

Sabrina inclined her head. "I already promised Cassiopeia I'd kill him."

Rubel smirked. "It seems you've found the best possible strategy for your situation. If only it weren't for one. . . tiny flaw."

"Right," Sabrina said, "from the parley earlier. As soon as the humans report that we're weak, the asarakam will rush out to see who can kill us fastest, so we'll have to fight at least some armies anyway. We could hunt the humans down, but then Catalina and her half of the army would turn against us."

"Well then," Rubel said. "I'll take my leave. It's a long way to Iscyth. Don't think of hurting the humans - if I am the only refugee from Trona, the _Sharytt_ will suspect me, and by extension your message."

Rubel strolled into the jungle, leaving Sabrina and Gretta alone together. The fire crackled. Animals called in the night, their voices distant, fading. Sabrina stole a glance at Gretta, and saw the redhead chewing her thumbnail, brows furrowed.

"Sorry I dragged you along like this," Gretta said. "I guessed you'd guard me if you saw me leave camp. I should've just talked to you. Actually, I should've talked to you weeks ago. I just - I didn't know whether. . . you know. . . you wanted me back."

Sabrina glared. " _Never_ wonder that again. That's an order from your number one."

"Oh? Does that mean you missed me?" Gretta asked.

Sabrina opened her mouth, but there was a lump in her throat. She turned away. She was finally getting Gretta back. Rabon, she was getting Gretta back. Sabrina didn't have to worry about whether she could fill Cassiopeia's boots, whether she could complete Cassiopeia's last orders, or even whether she was a yoma or not. With Gretta, those things lost their sting, leaving only warmth. Sabrina covered her mouth, trying to keep her breathing steady. Gretta's footsteps neared. Gretta's arms settled on Sabrina's pauldrons, Gretta's chin nestled beside Sabrina's helm, and Sabrina caught a whiff of grass.

"Did you miss me?" Gretta asked.

"Maybe a little," Sabrina croaked. She needed Gretta closer. The armor was in the way. "Don't take this the wrong way."

Sabrina stripped off her armor and hugged Gretta, hard, burying her face in wavy hair. Gretta's arms wrapped around Sabrina's waist, Gretta's ribs pressing against Sabrina, rising and falling as they breathed together, their heartbeats overlapping. Sabrina thought that, If they were dragons, they might have melted together where they stood.

Sabrina stayed there until the warmth filled every part of her body, and then she relaxed into Gretta's arms, her breathing steady and deep, filling her with Gretta's scent. The lump was gone from her throat.

"I'm sorry," Gretta said. "I didn't know it was that bad. If we're ever separated again, I'll come talk to you within a week."

"Me too," Sabrina said.

They exhaled together, and broke the embrace. Sabrina started back toward camp, leading Gretta by the hand. Shafts of moonlight illuminated the undergrowth around them.

"So, you want to take over the world," Sabrina said.

"Sure do. Are you surprised?"

"Yeah. It's not surprising that you'd have a large scale plot, but your motives usually relate to yourself or someone you know. Taking over the world seems. . . too impersonal."

"Oooh, how sharp," Gretta said. "You're exactly right. You should consider becoming a plotter someday. I'd teeeach you."

"So what's your motive, unless it's a secret?" Sabrina asked.

"It's a secret, but not a suuuper secret, so I'll tell you. I want take away everything my father has spent his life working for."

"Who is your father?" Sabrina asked.

Gretta's fingers brushed the scars on her throat. "Nicomeeedeeeus, the most powerful man of the Organization."

"Why don't we just kill him?"

"Ew no, I don't want to _kill_ him. I want to surpass him. It's not like I hate the guy."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "So you're not out for revenge, you just want to destroy his life's work as a sort of friendly competition."

"Mhmm. I can explain though. See, my father loooves yoma."

Sabrina stopped dead. " _The leader of the Organization loves yoma?!"_

"Wha- calm down, your aura's going crazy!"

"Calm down? We have to tell someone!"

"Everyone's already heard, but no one believes it," Gretta said. "People have been accusing Nicomedeus of loving yoma for foreeever. Actually, the real reason behind the falling out between Necis and Miria was that Necis poisoned my father while he was still a child, so you could say my father was sort of the cause of the Baroness Wars."

"Will you be upset if I kill him?"

"I don't like him, but he's still my father. Pretty please wait until after I show him up, okay? And I guess I would sliiightly prefer it if he lived, so I'll ask you to consider just removing him from power."

Sabrina scowled. "I'll think about it. I'm surprised you don't seem traumatized. Did he not raise you himself?"

"Oh, he definitely raised me. In some ways, he was a good father. I was the only human he'd experiment on, and he only experimented on the things he loved. He always promised that when his experiments wore out my human body, he'd make me a half yoma, and then, after a little while in that cocoon, my real self would awaken, and he'd get to know his daughter for the first time. I looked forward to it a looot. I think I would've died if it weren't for the hope of awakening keeping me going."

Sabrina shuddered, a memory coming back to her. _If you think about it, you're really just a cocoon right now,_ said a man in black. _Let your real self out!_ It was possible, even probable, that Sabrina had met Nicomdedus before.

"Testing tiiime," Gretta said. "What makes warriors strong?"

"Yoki."

Gretta laughed and sat on a fallen tree facing Sabrina, their clasped hands resting on Gretta's thigh. "Yoki is too obvious, silly," Gretta said. "After the first generation failed, we figured out that the answer is hatred of yoma. Or, more accurately, it's a special type of self-loathing. When a girl's transforming into a warrior, the more she hates and resists the yoma bits inside her, the better the yoma bits transform her. For someone as strong as you, you must reeeally hate yoma, or rather you hated them during your transformation. That's why the organization gathers orphans who got traumatized by yoma, and aaalso why the organization makes yoma in the first place. Whoa, calm down! Your aura, your aura!"

"Holy goddesses, Gretta. If you've got any more world shaking revelations, you'd better spit them out right now and get them over with."

"No more surprises, I prooomise," Gretta said.

"Okay."

Sabrina leaned forward against Gretta's legs, breathing deep to control her fury at the Organization. It wasn't as intense as it could have been, since Raurek and Dietrich's accusations had already made her suspicious. If Gretta's father proved to be the man who'd tortured Sabrina as a child, then Sabrina's vendetta against yoma would transform into one against Nicomedeus and his accomplices.

 _After which, we'll awaken_ , _right?_ the god inside said.

Wrong. Gretta would hate her if she did.

 _Are you certain she hates yoma?_ The god said. _The apple doesn't fall far from the tree._

Apples roll very well though.

"Aaanyway, my body wore out when I was seven," Gretta said, "and after Father put yoma bits in me, even though it was painful, I was reeeally happy about it. I cried with joy while the other trainees cried from pain."

Gretta held up a lock of bright red hair. "No hatred, no yoki, not even one blonde hair. I couldn't awaken."

"Your father must have been furious."

"More depressed, actually," Gretta said. "He told me my true self was dead, and every time he saw me, he left the room. I followed him once, and he was sobbing "Miata Miaaata. . ." He didn't experiment on me anymore. I don't think he loved me anymore. . . That's why I decided to cruuush him. If I couldn't have his love, at least I'd have his respect born out of feeear. I resolved to become like father, and manipulate my way into power, and someday I'd come back and _ruin_ him so he'd be fooorced to recognize that I _wasn't_ dead just because I was a colorhead. So, that's why I want to be _Sharytt_."

Sabrina took the lock of Gretta's hair and held it in a shaft of moonlight.

"Don't think I'm suspicious of you," Sabrina said, "but if you were being made into a warrior today, what color would your hair end up?"

"Pure blonde," Gretta said.

 _She's lying_ , the god inside said. _She thinks you'd consider her a traitor if she doesn't hate yoma._

But Gretta had answered without hesitation, and she didn't blink or show any signs of nervousness, even as Sabrina scrutinized her.

 _You've got to be kidding me_ , the god said. _You think someone like Gretta doesn't know how to lie persuasively?_

Maybe it was naive, but Sabrina was certain that Gretta was honest with her.

 _Agreed, under most circumstances_ , the god said. _But we're known for eating yoma guts, and we've talked to her several times about making yoma extinct. She might be afraid for her life, in which case, I could absolutely believe that she'd lie._

"I guess it's natural for you to be suspicious after I told you that kind of story," Gretta said. "Like I said, I didn't hate yoma as a child. Actually, I didn't even know they ate guts until I became a trainee, so I was pretty confused about why _anyone_ hated yoma. But, well, to explain how that changed. . . how well do you know Raki?"

"Not well. He trained me in the Isley style, and at the same time I graduated, he became a field agent and my handler. I didn't speak to him much, but he did get me special equipment I requested, which seemed odd for a man of the Organization. Now that I think of it, he never quite seemed like the other men in black."

"You're exaaactly right," Gretta said. "See, Father told me that after the Cataclysm, everyone thought the asarakam were going to land again soon, so all the politicians wanted to bring back the Organization, which hadn't been around since Miria purged the yoma. It was the chance my father had been waiting for his whooole life. My father had hoarded all the records from the old Organization, and knew all the secrets about making yoma and stuff, so he had the know-how to bring the Organization back. The only guy opposing it was Raki, who was suuuper powerful at the time, because he was the only one from Miria's inner circle still alive, so people saw him as sort of speaking for Miria."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. It was hard to imagine that Raki had ever been powerful. He'd always seemed. . . deflated.

"Well, even Raki wasn't strong enough to go against people's fear after Miria's death, so it was easy for my father to manipulate everyone. It looked like he would finally get to fill the land with lots of his beloved yoma and awakened beings, buuut Raki wasn't giving up that easy. Since he couldn't stop the Organization from coming back, Raki used his power as Miria's successor to become the joint overseer, equal with my father."

"Did Raki know about your father?"

"Not at first," Gretta said, "but they started butting heads pretty quick. Raki wouldn't even agree to release yoma into the wild - he wanted to make yoma only out of criminals waiting to be executed, and then kill the yoma right away and put the flesh in regular, non-traumatized girls. He also came up with less invasive stigmatas like mine, and he wanted the trainees to live in the Cathedral of Miria while my father wanted to go back to the old headquarters in Sutafu. Basically, Raki was really really nice."

"And they all came out colorheads," Sabrina said. "Shame."

"Yep," Gretta said. "I'd be glad if we could make warriors kindly, but Raki's mistake was trying to do it all at once. He thought he could toss aside a whole century of Organization research and still get results as good as the old Organization did. Once everyone saw that the first generation was a failure, Raki lost eeeverything. He got demoted to a sword trainer, and my father even took away his daughter for-" Gretta made air quotes with her free hand, "research purposes. After that, the Organization went back to it's old ways."

"And your hatred of yoma?" Sabrina asked.

"Right. It's from being part of the first generation. I had lots of friends there, and even a best friend named Elise, and we made plans together about how to be good fighters without much yoki. We even got pretty confident. Buuut, things were going to be muuuch harder than we thought, because my father released yoma into the land to traumatize girls for generation two, and after a few years the bishop of Rabona demanded that we control the rampaging yoma. So we got sent out after less than half the usual amount of training. I was ten."

"As in, the number ten warrior?"

"Nnnnope. Ten years old."

Sabrina's jaw clenched.

"Since we couldn't lift claymores, they gave us spears, and we'd hunt yoma in groups of twenty with support from human troops."

"You must have lost a dozen warriors every hunt," Sabrina said.

"Wooorse. Most hunts failed. Yoma were faaast, so if one started losing, he'd just run, but if _you_ tried to run, he'd catch up. Everyone was dying, dying! Even though we were all desperate to desert, anyone who did got hunted down by the trainee Catalina. You could always tell the ones she'd killed because they had tiny holes in them from the estoc she used before she could hold a claymore. We started that year with sixteen hundred warriors - the largest generation by faaar, but we ended the year with thirteen hundred dead, and it was six years before the second generation was ready."

"How did you even survived that?"

"Elise looked out for me. She was stronger than the rest of us. She even killed a yoma once, so we called her Yoma Slayer Elise. Yoma Slayer was the only nickname we gave anyone, since killing a yoma was such a huuuge deal. She used to tell us that we were safe as long as we were with her, and she'd take us to see waterfalls or go into towns just for fun. After we'd survived our first year, the two of us and a couple others were hiking through a meadow when we ran into a pair of warriors just enjoying the flowers. I remember thinking that their auras were strooong - the strongest I'd ever sensed from warriors, and I thought that if we could make friends and stick together with them, we'd never have to be scared again. They offered to train with us, and after a little sparring, they had two of our friends pinned, and suddenly twwwisted our friends' heads off. That's not an easy sound to forget. I kind of froze up in the fight, but I remember afterward, the killers changing back to their yoma forms - their real forms, and then I watched them wake up Elise, who they'd beaten unconscious during the fight, and once she was awake, they slooowly pulled off her aaarms, and then her leeegs, and made fun of her and kicked her stumps until the pain made her awaken, and she burst apart. The way I survived is compleeetely secret, but the point is, I _hate_ yoma."

Sabrina kneaded her forehead. "So, to summarize, your father almost killed you with experiments before turning his back on you, and then you went to war and your friends got ripped apart. Then you turned twelve."

"When you say it like _that_ it sounds a bit rough."

Sabrina gave Greta an anguished look.

"What's wrong?" Gretta asked. "That stuff was a long time ago. I'm aaall better now, really."

"Yeah right. I've known enough warriors to know experiences like that worm into the mind - twist what you want and how you see things, and you end up full of hate or insecurities or distrust. It's not a question of whether you're messed up inside, but how."

"Nooo, I'm doing fine. Don't get upset over me."

"It's drastically unlikely that your background would produce someone as sweet as you, so I can't help but think that you're hiding either grief or fear, and if you are, I can't help unless you tell me, so please, Gretta, tell me."

Gretta smiled. "All right, I'll tell you even though it's a saaappy story. See, even after I manipulated my way out of field operations and into the research department, I could never feel safe. The back of my mind always expected people to transform into yoma and puuull me apart. I didn't sleep hardly ever, and aaall my friendships were fake, because every time I met someone I'd figure out how to manipulate them, and I always always kept my real self hidden."

Gretta caught the end of Sabrina's braid and rubbed it against her cheek. "Buuut, then I met a girl who seemed like she would be easier to manipulate if she _knew_ I was manipulating her, and when I tried being authentic with her, she actually liked me, aaand the girl was strong enough that even I could feel safe around her, and aaalso she happened to be the prettiest girl I'd ever met."

Sabrina blushed.

"Even though you don't like me the same way, just having you close is enough," Gretta said. "I'm happy."

Gretta beamed. Her face shone in moonlight, and Sabrina realized that, assuming Nicomedeus was the man in black from her memory and her vendetta against yoma was over, then the reason she'd pushed Gretta away a month ago _might_ no longer be valid, and, if Sabrina figured she could gradually reconcile Gretta to the idea of Sabrina being a yoma. . . well. . .

". . . Actually," Sabrina said, but paused. How did one communicate this sort of thing? Back with the angry lemon, Gretta had just sort of _gone for it_ without much preamble. Sabrina felt her blush deepening. A sensation like rising yoki flooded her with each quickening heartbeat.

Gretta cocked her head. "Something up?"

Sabrina pulled her close and kissed her. Gretta squeaked.

When they broke apart, Gretta was bouncing, giggling, kissing Sabrina's cheeks and jaw, licking the tip of Sabrina's nose.

Sabrina laughed. "Are you half puppy?"

Gretta tackled her into the underbrush and kissed her again, and when they paused for air, Gretta whispered, her lips brushing Sabrina's.

"You know how some yoki manipulators can influence people's movements?"

Sabrina tried to nod, but her head wouldn't move - a spark of her own yoki held her neck muscles taut.

"I'm just learning it," Gretta said, "but I can do that with aaany part of you."

Gretta kissed Sabrina's throat, and the spark slipped into Sabrina's chest. It tickled past her heart, beginning to pulse, its undulations accelerating until they blended into a gentle buzzing sensation that sank through her stomach muscles, passing her navel.

"Ready?" Gretta asked.

By way of answer, Sabrina kissed her as deeply as she could.


	11. Against the Dragon

Sabrina woke with her cheek on Gretta's soft dress. Without opening her eyes, she breathed deep, and smelled lemon.

"I thought you were out of lemons," Sabrina muttered.

"I was," Gretta said. "I aaalmost had to resort to eating jerky, but there were lemons at that town we sacked the other day. What it called again?"

"Sislefys _,_ " Sabrina said, smiling at the memory. She'd fought six awakened at once in Sislefys, and with Cassiopeia's yoki, Carnage, and Strong Draw, she hadn't even needed fifty percent.

"Right, Sislefys," Gretta said. "Sooo, that probably comes from _sisel eflyss_ , which would mean. . ."

"Vale of food," Sabrina said.

" _Sisel_ is deeefinitely vale," Gretta said. "Vale of plenty?"

"I'm almost certain it's food" Sabrina said, "but it's not like I'm perfect at Asaric yet."

"I'll look it up," Gretta said. "Yooou, on the other hand, have an army to run."

Sabrina nestled deeper into Gretta's lap. "It's Catalina's turn today," she mumbled into Gretta's stomach. "I'm going to lie here until marching time, and then we'll talk about all the stuff we're going to do when we rule this place - none of the realistic stuff, just the daydreams."

"That's exaaactly what I want to do," Gretta said, "but I sense Susan coming this way, and you know what _that_ means."

Sabrina groaned. "I should've let Catalina be the only number one. You know who I'm jealous of?"

"Who?"

"Techne, before she lost her arms. What a life, just hiding down in the single digits, never letting on how strong she was. She probably had all sorts of time to spend with her girlfriend, if she had one."

"Oh? Are you sooo over the moon with me that every second day together isn't enough?"

"Yes. More Gretta time please."

Gretta giggled and hugged Sabrina's head. "Okay, if you want to carry me on your back all day, I'm game. I'll use your helmet as a table."

"While you're back there, give me six braids. I still haven't done the ones from Sislefys."

"I did those while you were sleeeping," Gretta said.

Sabrina squinted her eyes open, pulling her ponytail around so she could look at it. There were six new braids, each as thin and white as a fingerbone, bringing the total number to forty seven.

"That's a lot of dead awakened," Sabrina said.

"See? Even if you don't like it, you're ineeevitably this army's _Sharytt_ , especially since you've got so much of Cassiopeia in you. With Cassiopeia's arms, yoki, and braids, maybe you should be called Cassiobrina? Or Sabriniopeia? Cassabriniopeia? Ah, Susan's almost here."

Sabrina sat up. They were in a meadow that stretched as far as Sabrina could see. The sun crested over a lake to the east, and, scattered near the water's edge, the rest of the warriors sat against their claymores, little more than specks at this distance. A breeze swept through the grass, and Sabrina felt a chill at the corner of her mouth. She wiped her lips on her sleeve.

"Um," she said, "I think I sleep-drooled on you."

"Sooo?" Gretta said. "I've had your saliva in my mouth. I'm not about to complain about it on my dress."

Sabrina blushed, and Gretta nipped her earlobe, a spark of yoki ghosting down Sabrina's spine.

Sabrina laughed, "not _now_ you savage."

"Just teeeasing," Gretta said. "Oh, and by the way, you have a sleepy seed."

The spark skipped to Sabrina's arm, lifted it, and picked the sleepy seed out of Sabrina's eye. Gretta was starting to get _very_ precise with that technique. Of course, she should be, given how much they. . . practiced it together. Yoki manipulation wouldn't have been needed in a normal relationship, of course, but Gretta and Sabrina still had one dark secret each, and they had an unspoken agreement not to go all the way with each other until they knew each other's secrets, though, since they were both women, the line between making out and making love got a little blurry at times.

Susan skidded to a halt next to Sabrina, breathing hard.

"Excuse me," she said, "but you both need to follow me. It seems we may be surrounded."

* * *

It had been eight months since Trona, where Catalina's fury betrayed her. Catalina had changed since then, or so she hoped.

She knelt at the edge of the lake, water lapping at her right calf, her palm flat against the sand underwater. The coolness soothed the scars Techne had given her - scars Catalina had chosen not to heal, but to cherish.

Number Eighty returned with number One and Four Eleven. No - Susan returned with Sabrina and Gretta. Catalina stood to meet them, and Sabrina glared death at her. Catalina looked back evenly.

"Susan says we're surrounded," Sabrina said.

"We are," Catalina said. "No scouts reported back this morning, not from any direction, and Hate's followers have sensed awakened asarakam closing in from at least three directions."

"That has changed," someone said, and Catalina turned to see Hate returning, flanked by two of her followers. "They are coming from all directions, and Fythsari is with them."

"Fythsari?" Catalina asked.

"Oooh, I know this one," Gretta said. "It's the child of the _sharytt_ , who leads the army. In Cassiopeia's original plan, Fythsari was the second of three asarakam we have to beat."

"An abyssal one then," Catalina said.

"Nooope," Gretta said. "It's not even awakened."

"It is much worse," Hate said. "Fythsari knows _the_ technique. Even the Alliance knew little of this technique, because no Alliance force returned from battle against Fythsari. We only saw the remains. The land burned down to bedrock, and the bedrock gouged into ridges."

 _Sutafu_ , Catalina thought. _Cataclysm_.

"So," Sabrina said, "we're up against the power that brought down Phantom Miria and the old number forty seven with her supposedly invincible technique."

"In addition, we have to fight the main army of the asarakam," Susan said.

"Sabrina, focus on their army," Catalina said. "If it is true that Fythsari is unawakened, I am well suited to fight him."

"Slow down a moment please" Susan said. "Shouldn't we be making plans to escape? No matter how good Catalina's thrust is, I hope you'll pardon me for saying that it's probably not enough to defeat Fythsari. And Captain, I would guess that the asarakam army has more awakened beings than we have warriors. Realistically, the only way we can survive is by escaping."

Sabrina inclined her chin. "Don't underestimate us. Our warriors have been culled down to the strongest, and the strongest have been hardened. They'll hold their own, and in the meantime, I'll slaughter the enemy. We'll find out if the awakened can be made to rout."

"Catalina will not fight alone," Hate said. "Fythsari is the one who put us in chains. He _will_ die today. No matter what I must sacrifice, I will _make him die_."

"Now that I consider it," Susan said, "I suppose it's unlikely we'd be able to escape anyway, given how fast awakened beings tend to be. Captain, Catalina, if either of you run out of yoki for healing, don't hesitate to come to me. I'll be protecting Gretta - we can't afford to have the Captain distracted."

Sabrina nodded to Susan. "Let's get the troops ready." She drew one claymore from her back and a second from her thigh, striding toward the rest of the troops. "Warriors up! We've got yoma to kill!"

* * *

One hundred forty warriors stood on the hilltop, facing outward - facing the enemy. Catalina and Hate were shoulder to shoulder, looking out over ranks of armored asarakam and the awakened beings that prowled among them. The breeze chased golden petals from the far side of the lake to flutter among the gleaming asarakam, as if nature was gilding them with her favor.

"Catalina," Hate said. "I ask you to chant with us."

"Chant?"

"It is customary among my followers and I. Chanting carries us through suffering."

"I will chant with you. But what are the words?"

"There are none," Hate said, "only feelings. When the chant was made, we had no tongues, and our feelings too were being cut out."

"Even the asarakam can't cut out feelings," Catalina said.

"They can," Hate said. "We walked in circles for thirty years - longer than your entire life. When the body is forced to walk that long, the heart and mind are trampled underfoot. I have no way to know how many years we trod in silence, but I know that my mind was dead, and the only emotion left to me was hate. As I felt even that begin to die, I shouted the last of my hate, and with the next step, new hatred grew so that I could shout again. Others joined me. We shouted with every step. Without tongues, we shared our hatred, feeding it until it was all we lived for. We are not alive Catalina. We are not people. We are hate."

Hate began to chant. Her followers - more than half the warriors - shouted with her. Even though she had said she would chant, Catalina remained silent. She was done with hatred.

As one, Hate and her followers advanced downhill, their yoki rising. Catalina called them back, but the chant drowned out her voice, each shout growing deeper as their bodies distorted. Catalina strode after Hate. They had to regroup, to fight with order. Catalina had barely taken two steps when the chant melded into a single shared scream. Hate's warriors fell to their knees, Yoki exploding in every one of them, their bodies boiling into new limbs, wings, and horns.

"No, stop!" Catalina said, but it was too late. Eighty awakened beings rose where Hate's warriors had knelt, their swords fallen, forgotten at their feet, the tatters of their uniforms cascading off of them in the breeze. Three of them were huge - abyssals in the shape of a hound, a hawk, and, in Hate's case, a winged titan. Their chant resumed, and this time, it was loud enough to shake Catalina's bones.

Catalina shut her eyes, struggling to quell her fury. _How could they think-_ she killed the thought halfway. Hate's choice was made. Horrific mistake or no, it was past, unchangeable. Catalina's task now was to react rationally. She opened her eyes.

Hate's awakened thundered downhill and crashed into the asarakam. Projectile spikes whizzed in the air, purple and blue blood flying. The winged Titan lifted an awakened asarakam and ripped it in half, hurling the remains at the enemies attacking her legs. Catalina turned her back on the spectacle. Only sixty warriors defended the hilltop now. Sabrina jogged up to Catalina, her ponytail bouncing.

"Did you know about this?" Catalina asked.

"No," Sabrina said, "but it helps our odds. Susan thinks she's sensed Fythsari near the dog abyssal, so let's attack there."

How could she have such a cavalier attitude about half their soldiers awakening? Catalina exhaled slowly.

"Very well," Catalina said. "Clear my path to Fythsari."

Sabrina raised one of her claymores, and sixty warriors marched up behind her, swords unsheathing with slithering rasps. Sabrina's eyes glowed gold. She sprinted across the hilltop, and, with an explosion of yoki, launched herself off the hill toward the enemy, her swords spread like wings on either side. The warriors charged after her, and Catalina followed at the back, with Susan and Gretta. For once, Gretta was wearing armor over her dress, though she still carried no sword.

"Are you able to sense Fythsari?" Susan asked.

Catalina shook her head. There were too many auras overlapping ahead. She couldn't even figure out where Sabrina had landed. Susan pointed over the helms of their charging comrades.

"It's the only asarakam clothed in red," Susan said. "It will be preferable for morale if you kill it quickly, so I wish you good luck."

The warriors rushed into the fray, shouting carnage, cutting a path into the chaos. The grass underfoot was soaked in blue, reeking of tar. An asarakam thrust a spear at Catalina, but she sidestepped and ran him through.

 _Red_. _I have to find red._

She scanned the tangle of swinging limbs and jabbing spears, and caught sight of an asarakam clothed in scarlet robes, wielding a spear with a head as big as a warrior's claymore. As Catalina dodged closer through the melee, she realized that it _was_ a warrior's claymore. The spear shaft had been forged around the hilt of the sword to form a weapon long enough for an asarakam, and the entire length, from the point of the claymore to the counterweight on the butt of the spear, was gilded and set with rubies. Two asarakam followed Fythsari like bodyguards, but they did not fight - they did not have to. Their master killed everything that came near. Fythsari moved sinuously, gracefully. The blade of its spear curved through awakened flesh, and chunks of Hate's followers lay around it, purple raining among the petals in the air.

Catalina activated seventy percent in a single rush. Her muscles bulged, her face rippling, throbbing as its shape changed. Molten steel shot through her bones, and she felt her jaw clench as her fury flared beyond her control. She charged.

Fythsari spun toward her, swinging the spear to slit her throat. Catalina jerked back. The blade thrummed in front of her neck, its wind buffeting her cheek as she sprinted forward. Fythsari readied the haft of the spear to parry.

Catalina Thrust. Metal shrieked. Blue blood splattered Catalina's face. Fythsari fell to its knees, the haft of its spear broken, a gaping hole through the center of its chest. Catalina raised her claymore to finish it, but the bodyguards rushed in on either side, and she leapt back. Fythsari was mouthing something in the asarakam tongue. All three of its eyes were rolled up into its head.

 _The ultimate technique_ , Catalina thought. _I have to finish him._

She sprinted toward Fythsari. A bodyguard barred her path, but she thrust it down. The second bodyguard stood off to one side, its spear ready to thrust into her back the moment she passed. Catalina turned to stab him through the heart, and then whirled back toward Fythsari and Thrust in the same instant. Her claymore stopped with a clang, the force of the Thrust rebounding into her arm and snapping her bones. She was facing a wall of scarlet scales, every one as large as her breastplate. She looked up, and her jaw fell open.

 _Rabon help us_.

* * *

Sabrina Carnaged up an awakened asarakam's arm and used a Strong Draw to split its skull. She landed behind a wounded warrior, caught the projectile spike that was about to skewer the girl from behind, and hurled it at the legs of a fleeing asarakam, throwing him to the ground. He scrambled to get up, but Sabrina pounced, sheathing both her claymores through his spine. All around her, the enemy was fleeing. In fact, the entire asarakam army was in rout, scattering across the meadows. Sabrina laughed.

The ground trembled. Warriors screamed. Sabrina looked over her shoulder, and did a double take. Rising from the battlefield on scarlet wings, was a goddamn dragon. He was bigger than any abyssal - bigger than any _building_. His silver eyes flared gold, and a torrent of blood red fire shot from his maw and blasted the hill apart. Burning chunks of dirt and stone arced into the sky like boulders from a volcano, trailing smoke. Sabrina dodged through a hail of flaming pebbles, but the wounded girl she'd saved took a burning clump of grass to the head, and her helm caught fire. The girl shouted and pulled off her helm, but the fire spread to her hands. Sabrina rushed to her side, sheathing her swords so she could use her hands to pull dirt from the ground.

"Lie flat," Sabrina said. "stretch your arms away from your body."

The girl was shrieking, but she followed directions, and Sabrina heaped dirt onto the flames, burying the girl up to her shoulders.

"N-no!" The girl screamed. "It's still in there, it's still coming."

The heap of dirt burst into flames. The girl surged to her feet, reeling, the flames almost at her shoulders. Sabrina hacked off her arms.

"Run," Sabrina said.

The girl fled, and Sabrina faced the battle. Hate's awakened were swarming the dragon, eighty against one. Those who weren't abyssals held the dragon down while the dog and hawk tore at its scales. The winged titan raised a hand, and a dozen projectile spikes shot out, slamming against the dragon's trio of eyes and into its mouth. None of their attacks so much as scratched the dragon. A jet of fire caught the winged titan in the face, but the titan did not fall back as her head was consumed. Instead, she smashed her face against the dragon's. The fire spread across the dragon's scales. Some of the awakened let go to avoid the flames, but many held fast, pinning the dragon as it burned.

Sabrina felt heat against her back. The spot where the girl's arms had fallen was now a pit of fire, the ground itself burning away, reeking of sulphur. Only the girl's claymore was unburnt. The rest of the battlefield was in a similar state, the corpses and pools of blood were in flames, filling the sky with black smoke. What little sunlight penetrated the gloom was orange, casting everything in an eerie glow. Sabrina grimaced. This would be the ideal time to try to use Wave Motion Awakening on the dragon, but with the entire battlefield turning to ashes, she doubted any of her comrades, even Gretta, would survive without her help. Sabrina focused yoki into her legs and ran back to the place where her warriors had clashed with the enemy.

She saw Susan, alone, staring wide eyed into an inferno. Adrenaline flooded Sabrina's veins. She seized Susan by the pauldrons.

"Where is she?" Sabrina asked.

Susan pointed at the fire.

Sabrina's yoki flared. She whirled toward the blaze, scanning.

"Wait, Captain!" Susan said.

Sabrina caught sight of a black dress and leapt, flipping in midair so she descended head first. As she neared the ground, she stabbed her swords into the dirt, holding herself above the fire.

Except there was no fire. A circle of grass fifty feet wide lay untouched in the midst of the inferno, and at its center, Gretta sat watching the dragon and abyssals burn. She looked up as Sabrina sheathed her swords.

"Oh, hi Sabrina," she said, grinning.

Sabrina hugged her hard enough to break ribs, which was fine, since they were both in armor.

"You were wooorried about me?" Gretta said. "That's sweet, but I'm actually pretty competent you know."

Sabrina straightened, eying the fire. "I can see that. Is your dark secret that you're some kind of witch?"

"Whaaaat? I don't know what you're talking about. How suspiiicious," Gretta said. "Sorcery's supposed to be dead anyway."

"So are dragons," Sabrina said.

"Good point," Gretta said, "but I'm actually controlling the fire with yoki manipulation. You probably saw that dragonfire is a bit more. . . energetic than regular fire. Weeell, that's because it uses yoki to burn more voraciously, which makes it a yoki technique. And any yoki technique can be influenced if you're reeeally reeeally good at yoki manipulation, like I am. I've had a lot of practice you know."

"Are you seriously saying that you learned how to control dragonfire by doing _that_ with me?"

Gretta giggled. "I'd like to say that, buuut it's really more related to the way I control my sky helper, which I've been doing for years and years. Anyway, pretty please go kill that dragon. I think it's winning right now."

"You sure have a lot of confidence in me," Sabrina said.

"Well uuusually you have even _more_ confidence in yourself," Gretta said. "You did chop an abyssal in half once, remember? And you're waaay stronger now. Also, I can keep you and a few others from catching fire, though a direct hit from the dragon will melt you before I can do anything, so don't let that happen."

Gretta stood and took Sabrina's hands.

"I've already bet eeeverything on you," Gretta said. "At this point, even if you lose and we all die, I won't have any regrets. But I don't think you'll lose. My Sabrina is stronger than anything."

Sabrina smiled, kissed her, and left through the inferno, the flames rushing over her, but never catching. Ahead through the blaze, she saw awakened ones burning. They clung and clawed at the dragon as they died, pressing their flaming bodies against his scales, trying to destroy him with his own deadly blaze, but the dragonfire would not consume him. He only became shrouded in flame and smoke.

Three dozen warriors met Sabrina in a gap between fires, their armor glimmering orange. Susan saluted.

"Captain," Susan said. "Since you're about to be in more danger than Gretta, I'd like permission to switch to helping you."

"If you want to follow me, I won't stop you," Sabrina said. "Just remember that we're up against a goddamn dragon. Setting aside whether you'll survive, I can't even guarantee you'll be useful."

"As long as you're going to engage it, I'd like to engage it with you," Susan said. "In addition, none of us can outrun a dragon, so our willingness is unfortunately beside the point. We're in a kill or be killed situation, Captain. Please give us victory."

 _No pressure then_ , Sabrina thought. She ran toward the dragon, entering the flames. Susan followed without hesitation, and the others fanned out a few steps behind. They climbed onto the blackened ruins of the hill, where the dragon writhed, shaking the ground as he struggled to free himself from Hate's dying awakened ones. Hate herself lay dead at the foot of the hill, her titanic head burned to ash. Only the abyssal hawk was free of the flames.

"If any of you know the drillsword, give it a shot," Sabrina said. "Everyone else, distract him."

With that, Sabrina launched herself into the clouds of smoke, her stomach dropping, her nostrils filling with the scent of devastation. In a moment, she would plummet next to the dragon's neck, and, despite having only eight months of practice, she'd try to use the inheritance Cassiopeia had given her - Wave Motion Awakening.

" _All strikes are kinetic waves,"_ Cassiopeia had said. " _Punch someone; you'll naturally use your whole body. The punch starts with feet kicking off the ground. Your legs extend. Hips and shoulders rotate, adding weight and force. Your arm straightens. Your fist lands with the power of your whole body. It's a wave."_

" _I get it," Sabrina said. "A sword hit is also a kinetic wave."_

" _That's part one of the technique. Part two: quicksword users could briefly awaken one arm. That's all you need to know to learn Wave Motion Awakening. But beware. As an offensive type, your version will be more forceful than mine. Just using it could rip you apart."_

Sabrina dropped from the sky, wind rushing past her face. She drew one sword, and at the moment she reached the dragon's neck, she swung, unleashing one hundred percent yoki into her feet, then her legs, hips, stomach, chest, shoulders, arms, and hands, matching the wave of awakening with the natural kinetic wave of her swing. It felt like being struck by lightning.

There was a deafening crack. Sabrina slammed into the ground, crying out as her arms flared with pain. Blood leaked from under her fingernails, and one arm bent backward at a right angle. She looked up. The dragon's neck was unhurt. His head turned to strike at her, snakelike, but she Carnaged back. His eyes turned gold, and she charged over the crest of the hill just before fire erupted into the sky.

The dragon roared, long and grating. Sabrina had learned enough Asaric to know that he'd just called her a worm of weak ancestry. She shouted back a phrase that she seemed to remember was insulting, and was rewarded with a burst of fire ripping off the top of the hillside, showering her with clods of dirt.

Susan landed beside her. "Captain, do you need healing?"

"I'm fine," Sabrina said. Cassiopeia's yoki had already healed her arms, and she was only at twenty percent.

"The drillsword failed," Susan said. "If the Divine Cleaver failed too. . . Do you suppose we're doomed?"

"That wasn't the true Cleaver," Sabrina said. "The yoki and kinetic waves weren't aligned right."

"Either way, he got significantly more agitated when you struck him. I believe he considers you a threat, so be cautious when approaching him - he's probably going to target you."

Sabrina leapt back to the ridge. The dragon was shredding the last of the awakened with his claws, the abyssal dog dead in the flames at his feet.

"Drillswords!" Sabrina said. "Hit the same spot I do!"

Sabrina flashed one hundred percent through her legs and kicked off, hurtling at the dragon's head. She knew what she'd done wrong last time - she hadn't realized that, because awakened body parts were quicker, the natural kinetic wave of Sabrina's strike would move faster than she was used to.

Sabrina swung at the dragon's eyes, letting the yoki run through her faster than before. The crack of impact burst her eardrums. Her arms seared with pain as she spun through the air, rebounding from the force of her blow. Something ripped through her back, and she flew higher. She tried to curl up to protect her head, but her legs weren't working. She glimpsed the ground an instant before it smashed into her, and skidded, her uniform, skin, and muscle shredding before she rolled to a stop.

She hissed, unleashing thirty percent, but even with Cassiopeia's yoki, thirty percent wasn't enough to heal her - the dragon's counterblow must've nearly cut her in half. She unleashed forty percent and got to her feet, still a little shaky. The claymore she'd used was nowhere to be found, leaving her with only one. Her hand went to the back of her uniform, and felt bare skin from her lower back to her shoulder blades. She shuddered. Until recently, that blow would have killed her.

She looked at the hill, and through smoke and falling ash, saw the burning dragon take flight. The eye Sabrina had hit was squeezed shut, so they'd done at least a little damage, but the red blood of warriors dripped from his claws, teeth, and the barb at the end of his tail. The abyssal hawk fled from him, soaring into black billows, but the dragon sent a jet of fire after it, illuminating the smoke from within, and with a shriek, the hawk fell beneath the clouds, trailing flames from one wing. It flapped toward the lake, passing over a handful of warriors fleeing below. Sabrina Carnaged to intercept the warriors, running alongside them.

The warriors were soot-blackened and bleeding. Only one had the black sleeves of a drillsword - the other drillswords must have been hit by the dragon, just as Sabrina had been, and they didn't have Cassiopeia's yoki to save them.

"Captain," Susan said. "Do you have any orders? If possible, I'd like to go out fighting."

"We're not going out," Sabrina said. "We're going to kill him."

Several of the survivors furrowed their brows.

"I've figured out the Divine Cleaver," Sabrina said. "I _can_ kill him."

"Excellent," Susan said. "Oh, _very_ excellent. What do you need from us?"

The dragon swooped toward them.

"Spread out, don't get killed, and _dodge!_ " Sabrina said, and Carnaged sideways.

A tower of dragonfire too bright to look at raked over the warriors, vaporizing several, blasting a fissure into the ground. Sabrina gritted her teeth. She couldn't _wait_ to cut this dragon. He twisted to pursue her, and Sabrina had to Carnage as fast as she could just to keep ahead of his breath. The land heaved and collapsed underfoot as she ran, the heels of her boots melting from a dozen close calls, searing her feet. Her arms singed and healed, reeking of burning flesh. She was over fifty percent - she couldn't keep this up for long. She stole a glance back. The dragon was staying high, half obscured by smoke, well out of her reach.

"Coward!" She said in his tongue. "Overgrown mosquito! Your parents must be ashamed that they spawned someone too afraid to land!"

Golden eyes shone from within the smoke, and Sabrina barely dodged the jet of fire that followed. She sprinted toward the lake, which was burning, hissing as it turned to steam. On the bedrock where the beach had once been, the abyssal hawk's wing lay in flames, blood boiling in the wound where it had been gnawed off. A scream echoed from above, and Sabrina looked up to see the hawk slam into the dragon from above, driving him lower.

 _She's setting him up for me_ , Sabrina thought.

She scanned the terrain, and saw a jagged ridge at the edge of a chasm, close enough to the dragon to serve as a launching point. Sabrina Carnaged toward it. Overhead, the dragon flipped over in midair, plummeting as he caught the abyssal hawk in his claws and opened his maw, his eyes turning gold.

Sabrina launched off the ridge. This time, she understood Wave Motion Awakening. There was no correct speed for the yoki wave. Instead, the yoki wave needed the correct rate of _acceleration_.

The dragon's burning scales rushed toward her, and she unleashed the true form of Wave Motion Awakening. It felt like being run through, struck with lightning, and consumed by fire all at once. She crashed into the ground, screaming. Every bone from her shoulders to her fingers was shattered; every other bone was broken. She could feel her organs _bleeding_. She tried to heal herself, but she couldn't concentrate, her thoughts were turning fuzzy and melting into a splitting headache. Blurrily, she saw the dragon and hawk fighting above, the hawk burning, tearing at a gaping wound in the dragon's side, showering the inferno with blue blood.

Sabrina's eyes drooped shut. She felt the god inside her trying to articulate something, but the thought melted away into blackness. All she felt was pain. All she heard was the ringing in her ears.

Fingers pried her eyelids open, and Susan's face wavered in her vision. Susan was yelling something, her yoki mixing with Sabrina's. Sabrina could read her lips as she shouted the same word over and over - _heal, heal_. At first, Sabrina wasn't even aware that she was obeying, but her headache soon cleared, the ringing in her ears fading.

"I can heal myself from here," Sabrina said.

"I know you can," Susan said. "But don't. Every percent of your yoki is pivotal. If you heal so much as a fractured toe with your own yoki, I'll severely disapprove."

Susan's face and body distorted, fangs filling her mouth.

"You'll pass your limit," Sabrina said.

"You're right," Susan said, "but that's my choice. Even now, you'd need at least twenty percent to finish healing, and that's more than we can afford."

Sabrina switched to her own yoki.

"Captain, please!" Susan said. "As a warrior, I never expected to live a long time - I only wanted to be useful while I lasted. When we took the tiller together, I felt fulfilled. If I can help you defeat a dragon and save our companions, that's the best end I could hope for, so please Captain, use my life. My black card is yours."

Susan's yoki flooded Sabrina's body, mending every organ and bone. As soon as she was healed, Sabrina stood. Susan did not.

"Hurry," Susan croaked. "I'm slipping. My mind. . . Oh goddesses, hurry."

Sabrina glanced around for other warriors, and saw none nearby. She picked up Susan's claymore, unscrewed the hilt, and withdrew the black card.

"I'll understand if you can't forgive me," Sabrina said, "but I'm refusing your card."

Sabrina let the card fall into the flames. Susan wailed as it burned, clutching her head.

"You don't have to die," Sabrina said. "If you want nothing to do with me after you awaken, go to the old headquarters in Sutafu. There's a woman named Dietrich there who will lead you."

Sabrina hoped Susan awakened before any of the other warriors found her, but it was no use worrying about that. She had bigger, more draconic problems to deal with. Above, the hawk fell away from the dragon, its abyssal body in tatters, burning. It plummeted into the pit of fire that had once been a lake, and the dragon turned his attention back to Sabrina.

Sabrina ran for the lake, screwing the hilt back onto Susan's claymore. There was only one person who could get her up to the dragon's altitude - the hawk. She had to get to the lake before the hawk burned to death. The dragon strafed Sabrina with fire, but he was slower with his wound, and Carnage was faster on bedrock than it had been on dirt.

Sabrina laughed as she dodged past burst after burst of his fire. "What is wrong?" She shouted in Asaric. "Are you bleeding out already? I feel sorry for the stone your blood falls upon, for your blood is like the urine of a cow, and it will take many years for the ground to be rid of the stink."

She was halfway to the lake when the dragon landed. She smirked. Could he really be that stupid? The dragon's eyes shone gold. Sabrina dodged, but the fire didn't shoot toward her - it blasted through the rock instead, filling the air with boulders. The dragon plunged his arms into the ground and heaved even more debris toward Sabrina. Then, with a burst of fire, he ignited the rocks as they fell. Between the rocks themselves, the fire, and the smoke, Sabrina couldn't see a thing.

She cursed. This wouldn't be a problem for any other warrior. Had he somehow guessed that she couldn't sense yoki, or was he just trying to crush her under a hail of boulders? Either way, until the rocks landed, she wouldn't be able to see which direction he was going to attack from.

She ran toward the lake in an evasive zigzag, slipping past thundering boulders, the ground shaking beneath her feet. Without warning, her left hand disintegrated in a jet of fire. She Carnaged away, smashing into a falling boulder, staggering. The jet of fire swept toward her, and she ran to the right. Scanning the hail above her, she chose the largest boulder she saw and dashed to intercept it, allowing the fire to overtake her just as the enormous boulder crashed beside her, blocking the flames. Sabrina Carnaged, slipping out on the left side of the boulder as the fire ripped through the rock and continued right. She smirked - she'd have a half second before the dragon adjusted his aim. She charged, bursting through a heap of rocks to find the dragon crouched at the edge of the lake-pit, his head low to the ground as he breathed fire. Sabrina raised her claymore, but the dragon leapt back, flapping to gain altitude, shooting fire to cover his retreat.

Sabrina leapt into the lake, regenerating her hand as she fell through smoke and steam. If the dragon stuck to his usual strategy of shooting from out of Sabrina's range, he wouldn't dare get close enough to the lake to hit her at the bottom. If he did, Sabrina could carnage up the walls and catch him. She landed in the inferno at the bottom of the pit, not far from the burning hawk. The smoke was thick down here. The air tasted charred, the light dim and red. Sabrina approached the abyssal's beak, which was bigger than Sabrina's entire body. She ran her hands along its smoothness and felt dragon blood between her fingers.

"You alive?" Sabrina asked.

"Have you come to kill me, _sharytt_?" The hawk said. "Will you claim an abyssal braid as Cassiopeia did? Very well. In this state, I cannot even defend myself against a warrior. How pathetic. For thirty years, we fed our hatred, and it was all in vain in the end. If this is the true face of the world, then I welcome death."

"I'm not after an abyssal braid," Sabrina said. "I'm after a dragon braid, so I'm going to heal you."

"Are you serious? A warrior would help an awakened?"

"It's a long story we don't have time for," Sabrina said. "Look, I can't synchronize because I can't sense yoki, but I know the theory well enough to walk you through it if I have to."

"You do not have to. . . There. We are linked."

Sabrina unleashed sixty percent, trying to push her yoki out through her hand and into the abyssal.

"More," the hawk said.

Sabrina felt the god inside her taking over as she neared sixty five percent. The hawk reared up, shaking itself, the tendrils that formed its wings stretching. It was still wreathed in fire, but the flame's progress was reset. Sabrina had bought it a few more minutes of life.

"Let us avenge our comrades," the hawk said.

The god cackled with Sabrina's mouth. "I call the first taste of dragon guts."

"You are a strange warrior," the hawk said.

A tendril wrapped around Sabrina's breastplate and lifted her onto the abyssal's back, where two more tendrils slithered from underneath plates of bone to hold her feet in place. Sabrina pulled off her armor and helm - in this kind of fight, they were more likely to melt onto her than protect her. As the abyssal began to flap, Sabrina crouched, gripping the hawk's spine left handed for balance, sheathing Susan's claymore into the holster on her thigh. She had some theories about how to mitigate the recoil damage from Wave Motion Awakening, but the technique would still hurt her enough that she'd only get one shot with it, so she had to save it for the dragon's head, neck, or heart. Until then, she might as well be ready to Strong Draw in case she got a chance at an open wound.

The abyssal's back heaved under Sabrina's feet, and they soared out of the lake, trailing flames. The dragon breathed fire at them, but the hawk banked rapidly, skirting the edge of the torrent, closing distance. The fire caught the abyssal's shoulder. The acidic smell of melting awakened filled Sabrina's nose before the dragon and hawk slammed into each other, tearing at each other's bodies with their claws, roaring and screeching. Both vied for altitude, skyrocketing together in a swirl of burning wings and blazing scales.

Sabrina caught sight of the wound on the dragon's side. It was by one of the abyssal's flapping wings, shrouded in the steam of boiling dragon blood. Sabrina freed her feet from the tendrils and climbed to the hawk's shoulder, where she could barely reach the wound. She Strong Drew into it, hacking deep. The dragon bellowed and flapped faster, soaring over them into blue skies - they were out of the smoke. The dragon glared down at them, his eyes shining gold.

"Get me to his head!" Sabrina said. She unleashed seventy percent and shoved it through her feet and into the hawk, hoping they were still synced. The abyssal shot upward, the dragon's face racing toward them. Sabrina prepared to strike, but the dragon's head whipped out of the way at the last instant, dodging their onslaught. The abyssal's momentum hurled them high into the sky, well out of the dragon's reach.

For the first time since takeoff, Sabrina looked down. Her stomach rose into her throat. She was looking down on mountains; she was even looking down on some _clouds_.

" _Sharytt_ ," the abyssal said. "I am dying."

The hawk's wings were shrunken and charred. Its eyes were smoking hollows. They were falling as the dragon surged toward them from below, closing range fast. Sabrina smiled.

"This is it then," Sabrina said. "Let's kill him."

"Do not fail me."

The abyssal spread its wings and fell. Dragon's breath blasted into its chest, but it did not flinch. Its tendrils pushed Sabrina to the center of its back, and the hawk's melting body became Sabrina's shield against dragonfire. As the abyssal began to disintegrate underfoot, Sabrina Carnaged to the tip of its beak and saw the dragon barely a second from impact. She unleashed one hundred percent into her legs, launching to intercept. Her feet slammed into the dragon's back. Instantly, it writhed, trying to buck her off, but she held fast. The dragon's head snaked around to face her, its maw opening, its eyes glowing gold.

Sabrina leapt. With a roar, she unleashed Wave Motion Awakening at the dragon's head. There was a thunderclap - the sensation of being struck by lightning. Blue blood and red scales scattered into the sky. The dragon's head was cloven in two.

Sabrina shook with laughter, silent because her lungs were burst. She'd killed a dragon. It had cost eighty awakened, three abyssals, and scores of warriors, but she'd killed a _goddamn dragon._

She plummeted into smoke alongside the dragon's corpse, which had stopped burning when he died. She supposed it was time to start worrying about landing. She tried to move her arms and legs, checking her condition. Her arms were shattered, her hands ripped open, but her head, spine, and organs were fine. This time, she'd increased the thickness of the yoki wave so that the kinetic wave only contacted awakened rather than warrior flesh. Since awakened flesh was tougher, that made the technique far more survivable. She unleashed seventy five percent and healed her arms.

The smoke ended. The inferno was gone from the stone ridges below. Angling her body against the rushing air, Sabrina eased toward the dragon's corpse, catching onto its scales. She waited until the moment before impact and launched herself upward, cancelling most of her momentum. The corpse smashed into the ground, shattering rock, while Sabrina alighted on a nearby ridge.

* * *

The blaze died. Catalina exhaled, allowing her head to roll sideways into a heap of ash. For some reason the fire hadn't burned her, but it still hadn't been pleasant to lie in an inferno, unable to escape on her ruined leg. She grimaced. She supposed she shouldn't have tried to kill the dragon on her own. She was lucky it had stomped on her lower half instead of her upper. It had taken all of her yoki just to stay alive.

A black booted foot landed close to her cheek. A human - she hadn't sensed him coming. She looked up, and saw a man in black. He smiled down at her, touching the brim of his hat in greeting. His eyes were hidden behind dark spectacles.

"You," Catalina said. "Gretta told us about you."

"My my," Rubel said. "The way you say that, it almost sounds like she spoke. . . uncharitably of me."

"You're plotting something. Do not think I cannot see that. It took you eight months to deliver a simple message, and now you happen to return right after most of us die? Gretta should never have trusted you."

"You wound me," Rubel said, sliding his glasses up his nose. "Unlike your island, the mainland can't be crossed in a single month. As for arriving after your battle with Fythsari. . . heh. . . Don't think about it too deeply. Just be glad the duel with the _sharytt_ is set. . ."

He stepped out of Catalina's vision. Catalina almost gritted her teeth, but stopped herself, calming. She could not allow Rubel to walk unattended on a battlefield where her companions might be wounded and helpless. Fythsari's spear lay within reach, so she grabbed it and used it to haul herself to her feet. Even broken in two, the spear was still taller than she was. Catalina's left leg was useless, throbbing with pain, but with the spear as a walking stick, at least she could hobble. Rubel turned his head slightly, grinned, and continued on a little slower, allowing her to keep up.

They found Gretta sitting cross-legged in a circle of grass. She had her back to them, her knuckles in her mouth. In front of her, a single blade of grass burned with the last remnant of the dragonfire. She held up a hand.

"Don't distract me," Gretta said, "I've aaalmost got it."

Catalina and Rubel waited. Eventually, Gretta removed her knuckles from her mouth, reaching out to touch the flame. The fire left the grass to climb Gretta's hand and vanish up her sleeve. Gretta giggled maniacally.

"Theeere we go," Gretta said. "I've still got to work on it for a while juuust in case, but I can talk now. Ooh, did you sense Sabrina kill the dragon? I knew she could do it."

Catalina looked from Gretta to Rubel and back. Gretta had just brought _dragonfire_ to heel like it was a pet mouse, and Rubel's grin hadn't even flickered. Worse, Sabrina had somehow, impossibly, killed a dragon. Over the last eight months, Catalina had calmed her fury enough to begin thinking that Sabrina might actually do more good than harm overall, but that did _not_ mean Catalina was comfortable with Sabrina having enough power to kill a dragon. How was it even possible to kill something invincible? Trying to imagine Sabrina killing a dragon was like imagining Gretta snapping a claymore over her knee - it was inconceivable.

"Well. . ." Rubel said, "it's good that Sabrina completed this warm up exercise, but. . . it was too close. Fighting like that, she won't even last a minute against the _sharytt._ "

Gretta looked over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. "It's nice to see you too, Ruuubel. When's the duel?"

"It seems that the _sharytt_ is. . . sentimental. Well, Draome was his grandchild, so it's to be expected. . . He asked you to meet him in the Dragonlair mountains on the anniversary of Draome's death. Since he doesn't know what day that is, you can choose any day you like. . . I'll relay it to him faithfully."

"Cataclysm day should be good," Gretta said. "Hey Cataliiina, how long 'till then?"

"Ten months, three weeks, and two days," Catalina said.

"There you go," Gretta said. "Tell the _sharytt_ I said hi, okay?"

Rubel chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back. "Before that. . . I'd like to talk with Sabrina again. . . I find her, well, nostalgic. After pondering it, I suppose she reminds me especially strongly of my beloved children. . . Or rather, one child in particular."

"So you figured it out," Gretta said, applauding. "I like you, Rubel. You're reeeally perceptive."

"You haven't told her?" Rubel asked.

"Nnnope. I would, but I don't think she cares about that sort of thing. Anyway, if you want to talk to her, she's over that way. I have to concentrate again."

Gretta pointed, and the dragonfire danced along her finger. Rubel strolled off, Catalina trailing behind. They followed the direction Gretta had pointed, but it wasn't Sabrina they found first - it was Susan - Sabrina's right hand.

Susan was hunched over, roaring, tears streaming down her yoma cheeks. She was on the brink of awakening. Catalina's shoulders slumped. Susan had been a good and rational woman.

"I'm here Susan," Catalina said. "Do not be afraid."

Susan looked up. Her face was bleeding, her claws raking through her own skin. "Catalina, please. . . please," she choked on her own words, sobbing.

"I know," Catalina said. "I will kill you. Be at peace."

". . . Please, please _kill her,_ " Susan said.

Catalina paused. "What?"

"The Captain," Susan said. "You have to kill the Captain. She wouldn't take my black card."

Catalina's jaw clenched, but she consciously unclenched it, calming herself. "She was probably too busy fighting the dragon. It is alright. I am here now."

"Yes," Rubel said. "It's preferable if you kill this warrior quickly. She may be trying to distract you so she can awaken."

"Shut your mouth," Catalina said. "Susan is no yoma, and she never will be."

"Listen," Susan said, "Before I . . . Listen, it wasn't a mistake. the Captain took my card and threw it into the fire, and then. . . sh-she left me to awaken." Susan pressed her face against the stone, shaking, her arms over her head.

Catalina began shaking as well, a molten haze filling her vision. She hobbled forward as liquid iron seared her bones.

"Sabrina has betrayed us," Catalina hissed.

Susan touched Catalina's ruined leg, and it healed. "Kill her," Susan said. "Kill her kill her _kill her_!"

"I will. I swear I will."

Catalina rammed her spear through Susan's head. Red blood fountained over Catalina's boots, making the ground slippery as Catalina stormed in the direction of the traitor. Something in the back of Catalina's mind warned that she was letting her fury get the better of her again, but that was irrelevant. She'd cast aside fury at murderers, at yoma, at awakened beings, but Sabrina was more despicable than all of those - Sabrina had abandoned her most faithful comrade to an end worse than death. _Unforgivable_.

Catalina crested a ridge and saw the traitor standing with a dozen surviving warriors, who were pointing at the dragon's corpse and talking. One of them glanced up at Catalina.

"Heads up," the warrior said.

The warriors formed a wall in front of Sabrina, drawing claymores. Catalina slowed. It was Trona all over again - a monster hiding behind blameless warriors - only this time, the monster was Sabrina instead of Cassiopeia, and this time, Techne was not here to speak wisdom. Catalina stopped in front of the warriors, closing her eyes. She didn't want to reason. She wanted to attack.

But that kind of thinking had made Techne a cripple. Catalina lay her spear on the ground and knelt a short distance away from it.

"I apologize," Catalina said. "I mean no harm. I would like to speak with Sabrina."

The warriors parted, and the Traitor prowled forward. She was black with soot, her uniform in tatters, glittering with shards of dragonscales and dripping showers of dragon's blood that stank like sulphur. The Traitor glared down at Catalina, her fists on her hips.

"What do you want?" the Traitor said.

Catalina considered her reply carefully. She knew she could not convince the other warriors of the Traitor's guilt, and with Hate and her followers dead, Catalina was out of supporters. As it stood, the Traitor would be the undisputed number One, which meant a lot of dead humans and who knew what else. Perhaps the Traitor would even trick her own warriors into awakening, just like she'd tried to awaken Susan - that would explain why the Traitor was bedding Gretta - Since colorheads couldn't be awakened, the Traitor would need other ways to manipulate Gretta into going along with all the atrocities.

Catalina saw only one solution.

"Firstly," Catalina said, "I recognize you as number one. I was wrong about you, Yoma Blood Sabrina - no - Dragonslayer Sabrina. Give me whatever rank you choose. I will accept it."

"Your rank's obvious," Sabrina said. "I can't justify anything below number two. If I did, you'd just murder everyone ahead of you and take the spot anyway."

"Secondly," Catalina said, "I found Susan awakening. I had to kill her."

The Traitor winced and turned away, feigning grief over the death of her supposed friend.

"She told me a story in her last moments," Catalina said, "about how she lost her black card."

"It doesn't matter," the Traitor said. "You already wanted me dead, ever since Sutafu. Nothing's changed. If we both survive fighting the _Sharytt_ , we'll settle things then."

"Once again, we agree," Catalina said, "but until then, it would be best for the warriors if you were not around to. . . _influence_ them. I do not care where you go, but leave us until the day of the duel. Otherwise, I will tell Gretta what Susan told me."

The Traitor froze. "It's not like she'd believe you over me."

"Not at first," Catalina said. "Knowing her, she will ask both of us about it subtly, and read the truth from our auras."

Catalina held her breath, careful to keep eye contact with the Traitor. Even God Eye Galatea could not have read truth or falsehood from auras, but the Traitor probably did not understand that since she could not sense yoki, and Catalina knew enough about the other warriors present to know that none of them were specialized yoki readers either.

Before the Traitor answered, Catalina heard footsteps approaching behind her.

"Rubel," the Traitor said.

"Ah, my dear Sabrina," Rubel said. "I'm sure you've heard the duel is set for the day you call Cataclysm."

"Fine," the Traitor said. "Now, Catalina-"

"-Actually," Rubel said, "I don't want to interrupt, but I overheard your conversation about Sabrina leaving. . . Well, I've been wanting to see what the new Organization is up to. . . I'm certain you have things you'd like to do back home as well, Sabrina. For one thing - call it a hunch, but the method asarakam use to transform into dragons. . . I suppose Raki might have some information about it."

"I do have business with the Organization," Sabrina said. "I'll go, but I'm taking Gretta with me."

"No," Catalina said. "Gretta is our only sensor left - without her, we will be caught and killed long before Cataclysm. You go now, _without_ Gretta, or I will tell her what Susan told me."

Catalina grunted as the traitor's hands caught her throat, jerking Catalina into the air.

Sabrina snarled, "If I didn't need you for the duel with the _Sharytt_ , I'd crush your throat. I'd let Cassiopeia's own hands take revenge for her!"

Catalina kicked the Traitor, throwing her back, and landed on her feet, coughing.

"The threat stands," Catalina said.

The Traitor took a pair of claymores from her warriors. Catalina snatched up her spear, but the Traitor sheathed her swords.

"I'll return these when I get back," the Traitor said to her warriors, her voice a monotone. "Mine are somewhere on the battlefield. You can use them for now."

The Traitor trudged away, Rubel following at her side. Catalina rubbed her throat. She was now in charge of a dozen warriors who hated her. Still, at least she had kept her fury under control. If she had killed Sabrina, fighting the _sharytt_ would have been impossible. This was the best outcome she could have hoped for.

Catalina straightened. "We need to move before the asarakam armies return," she said. "Gather all the claymores you can find and meet at the broken hill in a quarter hour. We will mark what graves we can before we go."

* * *

Dragonfire manipulation is far easier than, say, redirecting an awakened being's attacks, because the dragon doesn't put any concentration into the fire. So anyone who could pull Galatea's trick of making Dauf miss could hypothetically control dragonfire, though yoki manipulation is a fairly rare skill in the first place, so if you're a dragon, you probably don't have to worry about it.

Skeptical Galatea: "If they traveled in Sutafu for three months, sailed for two, and campaigned for eight, then it's been thirteen months since the meeting in Rabona. Given the fact that it was winter when Sabrina fought Raurek, shouldn't it be winter again right now? Why is there a green meadow?"

How sickeningly observant. Let's see. . . They crossed the equator on their way to the mainland, so they're in the southern hemisphere now, and the seasons are reversed. Yeah, that'll work.


	12. Nicomedeus

Raki woke for the fourth time that night, or was it the fifth? He couldn't remember. His aging bladder woke him often. He climbed out of bed, groaning at the pain in his knees. The floor of his chamber was silver with moonlight, cold on his bare feet. The fire on his hearth, which had warded off winter's chill as he went to sleep, had died to a sullen glow among the coals. He donned one of his cloaks to ward off the chill.

There was a muffled clang from somewhere beyond Raki's room, screams, the rumble and crash of collapsing stone. Raki's heart jumped. Was Dietrich attacking? No, it was probably just a fight between warriors. The atmosphere in the cathedral had been tense recently, and no wonder - after the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth generations graduated, they'd thought they could finally put a stop to Dietrich's rampage, but two months ago whole armies of warriors had begun to vanish, only to reappear by the hundred as awakened beings at Dietrich's side. It was natural for the warriors to be frustrated. Just in case it was something more serious, Raki grabbed the sword that leaned against his wall - the claymore Isley had given him as a gift for completing his training. He remembered how light it used to feel, back when his arms were thick with muscle. Now, his arms were saggy as egg yolk, and the blade weighed heavy in his hands.

He leaned on the claymore as he walked, making his way toward the sound of fighting, but he was slow. By the time he arrived, the battle was over. The double doors at the entrance of the cathedral were hanging open on one hinge each, and the night wind gusted through the grand hall. Moonlight scattered through stained glass, lighting the carnage in blue and green. Warriors were scattered everywhere, wounded, moaning. The pillars and floor were torn and splattered with reeking blood, and the statue of God and Heroes was dripping with the blood of the single digits, who lay scattered around its base.

Raki hobbled toward the single digits as fast as he could, his joints creaking with his haste. He didn't have any bandages with him, but he could cut his cloak into strips. Surely, that would be enough. It had to be enough. If it wasn't, whatever had cut down the single digits would have free reign of Rabona, and if it was Dietrich. . . Raki shuddered as he pressed on.

His feet were sticky with blood by the time he reached the statue of God and Heroes under the great dome. Clinging to his sword for balance, he lowered himself to his knees beside the number one. She was propped against the statue, staring out over the hall, trembling, her breath ragged. She looked young - as young as Miata when Raki first met her. Her eyes flickered over him, but she seemed to be looking through him.

"How can I help?" Raki asked. "Where are you hurt?"

"Hurt?" She asked. "She didn't hurt me."

"Was it Dietrich? We have to go after her," Raki said.

"No," the number one said. "Give me whatever punishment you want. I won't go. I can't." She rolled onto her side away from Raki. Her arm sprawled out before her, and she stared at her hand, flexing it. Raki questioned her more, even shaking her by the shoulder, but she only curled up and hid her face.

A thin voice echoed down the hall. "It's useless, little boy."

Framed by moonlight in the broken doorway stood a man in black. Dark spectacles concealed his eyes, and he kept one hand on his hat to keep it from blowing away in the wind. The hairs on the nape of Raki's neck stood on end. He clutched his sword with both hands, the edges pressing cold and hard against his palms. Raki knew every man of the Organization, but he did not recognize this man in black, and the faint grin on the man's face was unnerving. The man strolled nearer, the hall whispering with echoes of his boots tracking through gore.

"It must be hard for someone as weak as you to understand," the man in black said. "Think of it this way. . . If someone is strong enough, she doesn't know what it is to be afraid. . . but we all die eventually. . . Or rather, most of us do, heh. If it's a warrior, then five years, ten years, thirty. Even the greatest heroes don't last long. Tragic, don't you think? Imagine what those heroes must feel when they meet an enemy stronger than them, and finally learn fear. Well. . . that's what the girl at your feet is feeling, little boy."

"Stop calling me a boy," Raki said.

"Oh, would you rather be called. . . little cook? I remember you well. . . stumbling along behind Clare, always in the way. . . Who would have guessed you would manage to impregnate her?" He slid his glasses farther up his nose. "No, rather. . . who would have guessed a quarter yoma like Clare would be fertile? I'm fascinated, truly."

"Who _are_ you?" Raki said.

"Just a kindly stranger looking after your daughter and her. . . companion," the man said.

"As if I'd believe that," Raki said. "Wait a second - if you saw me as a boy, you must be from the Organization back then. Clare told me about you. Rudol, Rudel or something. You tried to get her killed!"

The man stopped next to Raki in a shaft of red-tinted moonlight. Most of his face was shadowed under his hat, but his grin was still visible. Raki fought down the urge to cringe.

"Rubel," the man in black said. "They call me Rubel."

"So you're the one who did this," Raki waved at the carnage. "You teamed up with Dietrich, didn't you? You're the reason she's been winning lately."

"Heh. . . I truly haven't done a thing," Rubel said. "In fact, even Dietrich hardly needed to lift a finger. Well, since you won't believe me if I tell you, let's see it for ourselves. . . As always, the trail that's thickest with blood will lead us to the truth."

Rubel brushed past Raki, leaving behind the scent of a corpse almost too old to stink. Raki shuddered. Clare had described Rubel as an older man. Her last meeting with Rubel must have been sixty-six years ago, yet here he was, at least a hundred years old, moving and looking like a middle aged man. Rumors from Raki's childhood rose unbidden to his mind - rumors of sorcery from black swamps beyond the world's edge, where the sun never rose and the moon never set. Raki shook his head. More likely, this was Rubel's son, or someone else who had taken the name.

Raki did not want to follow him, but he couldn't let someone like that wander free in the cathedral. Pain shot through Raki's knees as he heaved himself to his feet and traced the bloody boot prints of the man in black. The path was convoluted, twisting and doubling back through frigid hallways. Raki paused in a moonlit room to light a candle before pressing on, the bloody walls flickering in orange light. Twice, he passed warriors lying in their blood. The first was weeping. The second was healed, but sat frozen, staring as blankly as a corpse. He saw four men in black as well, all dead.

By the time Raki reached the steps to the dungeon, he felt like his kneecaps were about to split. He stared down the narrow stairwell as far as the light of his candle would go. Brown streaks discolored the black rock walls. They could have been rust or old blood, but if the smell was any indication, they were some kind of rot. A chill wind billowed up from below, stirring Raki's cloak and driving the candle's flame wild. Raki glanced longingly back the way he'd come. It had been years since he'd gone down to the dungeons - the steps were murder on his knees, and still worse, the dungeons had become Nicomedeus's territory. Raki didn't dare guess what vile experiments might be chained beneath the cathedral. Yet the trail was clear. Rubel's boot prints were red upon the steps, mingling with a stranger set of prints that looked almost like a warrior's boot prints, only wrinkled at the heel, as if the boots had been slightly melted from behind.

With one last backward glance, he started down the steps, adding his red footprints to the others. His soles grew numb from cold, his breath frosting around his candle. The stairway echoed with his unsteady breathing and the tap of his claymore. All else was silent, which made Raki feel loud. Anything lurking below would hear him coming, and could prepare an ambush easily. Raki raised his sword every time he passed one of the cells that bordered the stair, but they were all empty. That was strange. The dungeons beneath the Cathedral of Miria were not large; if he remembered right, there were only three cells at the bottom of the stairs. Raki would have thought Nicomedeus's experiments would take up every cell available.

The flicker of Raki's candle light touched the final step of the stair. Despite the screaming pain in his knees, he stopped using his claymore as a walking stick and raised it to guard position, his arm shaking with the strain. Cold sweat made the hilt slick as he advanced into the room at the bottom of the stair. He saw three steel grates over openings in the walls, just as he remembered. These were the strongest cells in the cathedral, made to hold awakened beings. Raki had been certain Nicomedeus would be using them, but all three were empty. Raki turned, searching. There was no other way out of the room, except. . .

The floor sloped down toward one corner, and there, in the shadows, was a wide drain. He advanced toward it, and saw a lock and chain that would have kept it shut, except that the grate itself had been hacked to bits, leaving a hole in the center broad enough for a man. When he held the candle over the grate, he saw a shute flecked with blood, angling deeper into the rock. The rotting smell from the top of the stairs had grown more pungent, and here at the drain, he finally recognized the stink that wafted up from below - yoma. A wave of foreboding filled him. The days when he could slay a yoma were long past. If he went down into this pit, he could not expect to come out.

He remembered the young man he'd once been. Back then, he never turned back. Seven years, he'd searched for Clare, never letting his faith in her survival waver. And then, after Lucy's Inferno, never giving up even then. He turned away from the drain. What had that achieved, in the end?

Gritting his teeth, he retraced his steps to the base of the stair, but found he could not bring himself to climb. It was warmer and safer at the top of the stair in the halls of the cathedral, but tainted memories lay in ambush for him up there, waiting to torture him as they had for so many years. When he passed the carved front doors, he saw Galatea on the day the cathedral was finished, running her hands over the wood, smiling at the stories the carvings told her, unaware that she would be murdered by one of her companions within the month. In the council rooms, he saw Miria and Dietrich leaning over maps, their armor glittering a million colors from the stained glass as they planned their war against the asarakam who had landed in Sutafu - preparing for the Cataclysm that would destroy them both. In the training rooms he saw Miata laughing as she tried to show the fifteen year old Necis how to spot a feint - it had been the last time he'd seen Miata laugh. Worst of all, when he stood before the Statue of God and Heroes, he remembered his wedding, with Vincent pronouncing he and Clare one being in the sight of the five aspects of God, Clare giving one of her rare smiles as he leaned down to kiss her. And he remembered years before that, on the day they'd defeated Priscilla, when Clare reached out to him with that same smile on her lips and said " _let's go, Raki. All of us. The path from here on out. . . We'll live it together_." Raki wiped his eyes on his sleeve. The happier the memory, the worse it hurt when corrupted by death. That's what waited for him if he climbed the stairs - a few more years of nightmares while his body finished falling apart.

Better to die fighting. He might not be able to kill a yoma, but Nicomedeus was human, and worse than a hundred awakened beings. If nothing else, he would bring Nicomedeus down with him. Raki lowered himself into the drain and let himself slide deeper into the reek of yoma.

The pipe seemed endless. He tried to shield the flame of his candle, but the wind whipped around his hand and blew it out, leaving him in darkness. The air chilled as he slid, and when he finally slipped to a stop at the bottom, he was shivering from cold. His fingers were slick against the ground, and in greenish light, he saw a sheet of ice at the bottom of the drain. It took him three tries to get to his feet, and then he almost fell again in shock. A few feet from the base of the slide, a pool of purple blood crept toward him out of the darkness, still steaming hot. It must have taken a whole horde of yoma to produce so much blood. Raki looked for the corpses, but saw only the rock walls in the dimness on his left and right, while ahead, patches of green light mingled with shadows in a tunnel.

Raki dropped his candle and gripped the hilt of his claymore with both hands, praying it wouldn't slip from his sweating, shivering fingers. As he shuffled down the tunnel, his feet growing sticky with the blood of yoma, he looked for the source of the light. At first he saw nothing - the glow seemed to emanate from the air itself - but as he passed through the brighter spots, he felt spiderwebs brush against his face, and looking closely, he saw hair-thin strands of luminescent green trailing from the ceiling. Under the brightest spot, there were so many filaments that it seemed like a full head of shining hair, as though a woman were buried in the ceiling with only her tresses hanging out. Raki pushed past the hair, and his hand came away with the sour stink of yoma.

The blood deepened, wetting Raki's ankles. The tunnel narrowed. He turned sideways to sidle through, raising one hand to steady himself against the wall. His fingers brushed through coarse fur. He jerked back, his heart hammering. The tunnel hadn't narrowed; there was a huge beast taking up most of the space. Raki held his breath to listen. Whatever the monster was, it wasn't breathing - Raki heard only the soft trickle of blood. He breathed deep, trying to slow his heart rate. Once he'd recovered, he fell back to the nearest bright spot and picked a handful of strands, bringing them back to illuminate the monster.

Dead yoma eyes glimmered in an animal face locked in a snarl. The fur was sparse and white, doing little to conceal the greyish skin beneath. Raki moved down its length, and saw the wound that killed it - a gash that had nearly cut it in two, still flooding with blood from split organs. Raki pinched his nose shut. So this was the fruit of Nicomedeus's experiments. The beast must have been ten times the weight of a regular yoma - taller than a man when it lay dead on its stomach. Just from looking at it, Raki had no doubt of what it was. A yoma bear. Only Nicomedeus could be mad enough to think it was a good idea to create such an abomination.

The clang of blades echoed down the tunnel, accompanied by a distant roar. Raki increased his pace. His knees threatened to give out, but he pressed on, and amid the tangled corpse of a yoma serpent as thick as a tree, he caught sight of Rubel sauntering through the shadows. Rubel turned his head slightly at Raki's approach.

"Well well well," Rubel said. "I was wondering if you'd follow. . . Looks like even after all these years, you haven't learned a thing. . . little cook."

"These beasts," Raki said. "He has to feed them guts - tons of guts for yoma that big. Where's he getting it all? In the Old Organization, how'd you feed the male awakened you kept?"

"Oh, they hunted here and there," Rubel said. "But from the little I've seen of Toulouse nowadays. . . well, I'm sure that sort of thing wouldn't go unnoticed like it used to. How unfortunate for this director of yours. Nicomedeus, was it? How he must struggle in such an. . . orderly world."

"He has been bringing a lot of wheat into the cathedral," Raki said. "Could he have found a way to feed yoma on grain?"

Rubel chuckled. "There's always been a way to feed yoma on grain, little cook. Or rather. . . there is as long as you have one intermediary step."

"Like a way to process the grain?" Raki asked.

Rubel's grin broadened. Raki felt sick looking at him, knowing that the grain must mean something horrible, but not knowing exactly what. He tried to guess as they neared the end of the tunnel, but he knew it was futile - he couldn't twist things around in his head like Nicomedeus could. He'd never wanted to.

The tunnel opened into a circular cavern as large as the dome of the cathedral. Rubel and Raki stood on a rock shelf around the edge of a pit. Before them, millions of luminescent filaments hung from the ceiling, combining into cords, which wove into tentacles, which flowed into the shape of a glowing, upside-down woman. The armor plates of an awakened covered half her body in black, and large yellow eyes stared down from a humanlike face - a face that Raki recognized.

"Raftela," Raki whispered.

"Yes, I remember her," Rubel said. "The old number ten. My, how she's grown."

Raki gritted his teeth. Nicomedeus had reported Raftela dead after Cataclysm - yet another of his lies.

Blades clashed. Raki looked into the pit, and saw warriors fighting at the bottom - a dozen against one. corpses in white littered the floor, intestines overflowing from gaping wounds. Most of the dead sprawled near the walls of the pit, where metal grates led to cells full of warriors. Some of those in the cells were male. Others were skinless, with mouths yawning open on every surface of their bodies, their many tongues long and grasping. One looked like a yoma dressed in a claymore uniform. The caged warriors watched the fight in silence - a ring of gold and silver eyes around the battle. Of the warriors fighting, all but one were men with their eyes and mouths stitched shut. They moved as fast as spiders, swiping with clawed hands, their bodies regenerating the instant they were wounded. Even so, they were losing. Their enemy was a blur of silver and white, shredding them into chunks two or three at a time. Blood splattered the ceiling, drenched the walls, and sluiced through the grated floor, falling on. . . falling on. . .

Raki cried out, recoiling. The darkness under the floor was crawling with human limbs, human bodies, and human faces. There must have been hundreds of people down there, packed on top of each other, their faces vacant and speckled with blood, their eyes not even tracking the battle above them. They spoke no words - only the low hiss of their whispered moans rose from their cage, borne on plumes of their frosted breath.

"Oh God, oh God," Raki fell to his knees, clutching his head. "Wh- wh- wh-"

"Ah, so you've noticed," Rubel said. "What you see down there - that's how you transform grain to guts. . . heh. . . Nicomedeus probably kidnapped fewer than a dozen humans, slowly over the years. With enough food, a mere handful of livestock can grow into such a large herd. . . and if they're just for guts, well, it hardly matters how inbred they become." He chuckled. "Even the stillborn have guts."

Raki vomited. He could smell them. God, he could _smell_ them.

"The more I learn of Nicomedeus, the more fascinated he gets," Rubel said. "Cages like these. . . I would expect them in the lairs of the awakened or the palaces of the asarakam, but here, in a human's laboratory. . . I do look forward to meeting him."

"That bastard," Raki said. "Right under my feet, for all these years. . ."

Globs of blood showered around him. Below, the last male collapsed, and the silver-white blur stopped, sheathing one claymore on her back and another on her thigh. It was Sabrina. Raki gaped. His daughter was breathing hard, sweat and blood clinging to her skin, but only a few patches of blood were her own maroon shade, and her face wasn't distorted from yoki - after cutting her way through the entire Organization, she was somewhere between ten and thirty percent.

"Impossible," Raki said.

"Yes, you'd think that, wouldn't you?" Rubel said. "I thought the same thing when Miria returned from Pieta and defeated the Organization on her own. . . Or rather, she would have, if it hadn't been for Raftela. To be honest, Sabrina's battle was easier. Although Sabrina had to fight more warriors, most of them were recent graduates while your daughter is a veteran of half a hundred battles. You know. . . I once met a man who said that a warrior's strength was equal to her hatred of yoma. True, perhaps, but if Pieta taught us anything, it's that the more a warrior is forced to struggle through hell, the stronger she grows. If you think of it that way. . . well, it's no surprise Sabrina is winning so handily."

Raki had always taken comfort in the thought that, even though Sabrina seemed almost as bad as Ophelia at times, she wasn't strong enough to do the world any lasting damage. So much for that.

"I have to stop her," Raki said.

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," Rubel said. "Although I'm sure Dietrich warned Sabrina about the possibility of the Organization using a counter warrior against her, it seems even Dietrich didn't know that Raftela was awakened down here. It looks like. . . Sabrina's attack will end the same way as Miria's."

"But she's right below Raftela," Raki said. "She could just jump up and kill her."

Rubel sighed, sliding his spectacles up his nose. "If she could do so, she would have. No, She's already in Raftela's clutches. Most likely. . . Raftela has erased herself from Sabrina's vision, just as she seems to have erased us from Sabrina's senses. At this distance, your daughter should be able to hear us. . . yet she just stands there, almost. . . obediently. Such a shame. To grow so strong, even to slay a dragon, and end up as nothing more than someone's pawn - Nicomedeus or Gretta. . . In the end, I wonder which one will hold Sabrina's leash?"

"Sabrina shouldn't have to be anyone's pawn," Raki said. "She just wants to kill yoma. That's not wrong. These wars have nothing to do with her!"

"Oh, but they have everything to do with her," Rubel said. He began to descend a stair into the pit. Raki hesitated, and then followed more slowly. Maybe he could find a way to release the people down there.

"Think of the world as a gameboard," Rubel said, "and war as the game. . . fifty years ago, it was Alliance against Asarakam. In that war, the Asarakam won because of Draome, Fythsari, and The Sharytt. With those three turning into dragons. . . Well, no one said the game was fair. Since then, it's been the Asarakam against the knights of Astraea, and again, the Asarakam were winning due to their invincible pieces. The world's fate is sealed, it seems. . . Or rather, it seemed that way until a year ago. I must confess, even I was shocked when warriors from Rabona appeared and destroyed Trona. Though . . . the real impact of Rabona entering the war wasn't their army, but the technique of the Number One - the one they called Divine Cleaver Cassiopeia. A technique that can slay a dragon. . . it changes the game entirely. It's no exaggeration to say that, on the day Cassiopeia conceived the Divine Cleaver, the Asarakam Empire lost its invulnerability."

Rubel reached the bottom of the steps and circled around Raki's daughter, close enough that his frosted breath washed over her. Sabrina glanced left and right, her ponytail lashing behind her, but she didn't seem to notice Rubel. Raki wondered what she was seeing to keep her standing still so long. Rubel lifted the largest braid from Sabrina's ponytail.

"Cassiopeia is dead," Rubel said. "But the Divine Cleaver was passed down to Clare's adorable little daughter. Even a little cook should be able to see what war has to do with Sabrina now. Her fate decides the next era of war. See. . . if Sabrina loses to the Sharytt, the war will be Rabona against the Asarakam against Astraea. If Sabrina wins as a pawn of Gretta, it will be Nicomedeus against Gretta against Astraea. But if Sabrina wins as a pawn of Nicomedeus. . . well, Rabona would have the strength of the mainland and the island combined, and Astraea would fall soon after. So. . . the world would belong to Nicomedeus."

"Is that what you want?" Raki asked. "Nicomedeus in charge of everything?"

"Such a personal question," Rubel said. "Even if I wanted to answer, it would be rude to speak of Nicomedeus as if he wasn't here."

Rubel looked up the stair, and Raki followed his gaze. A man in black stood at the edge of the pit, tangled hair spilling from the shadows of his hood, greenish grey in Raftela's light.

"You," Raki growled.

Raki strode toward the stairs, away from his daughter - the girl Nicomedeus had kidnapped for the Organization when she was only five. Raki's cloak swirled in mists rising from the mouths of hundreds of Nicomedeus's victims. He passed cages full of Nicomedeus's abominations. The air was cold, but Raki was boiling, rage filling him with strength he hadn't felt in decades. He took the stairs two at a time. The pain in his knees was nothing. His claymore was feather light, whooshing as he brought it up to a high guard. Nicomedeus didn't try to run. Raki bounded out of the pit and swung with all his strength.

Like a phantom, a woman in white appeared in front of Nicomedeus. A clang split the air, and Raki's claymore clattered to the floor.

Raki staggered back. "M-Miria?"

The woman frowned. "Why does this man recognize me, Father?"

"Raftela," Nicomedeus said. "If you would."

Raftela's light flared, and Miria blinked, her mouth falling open with a sigh.

"There," Nicomedeus said. "We can speak freely now. She's forgotten the last few seconds, and she won't perceive anything else we say."

"Miria, it's me, Raki!" Raki said. "Raftela is controlling you, she's messing with your memories. You have to remember. The man you're calling Father is a monster Miria. He's a monster!"

Raki shook Miria by the shoulders. She brushed his hands away, her gaze unseeing. Worse - her eyes were blue instead of silver, her hair deep brown. She was awakened.

"No, no," Raki said. "Not Miria. She'd never awaken. Never."

"I should apologize," Nicomedeus said. "I never disliked you, Raki. If only you could have loved the awakened and hated humans, instead of the other way around, we could have been friends. I'm sorry it has to end like this."

Nicomedeus raised a finger, and from the shadows of the tunnel, Clare emerged. Her hair was light brown, her irises as green as grass in sunlight. Her eyes met his without so much as a flicker of recognition. Raki fell to his knees, covering his face in his hands as he began to weep. He heard a whoosh, and something ripped through his stomach, throwing him onto his side, his head smacking against freezing rock. His stomach burned with agony. Warmth and wetness spread out from the pain, creeping from his chest to his hips. Clare's gentle hands rolled him onto his back. Her breath wafted over the wound in his guts, and then, with a satisfied sigh, she sank her teeth into him, and ate.

* * *

Raki met Rubel in the anime, but not in the manga (as far as I know). I decided to go with the manga and have Raki not recognize Rubel, since I consider the manga more canonical.

Naysayer: Isn't Raftela's power way too strong and versatile?

Answer: Clarice deleted specific moments in Miata's memory with apparently no practice beforehand. Raftela is an awakened being with many years of training. Her potential using similar techniques should be many times that of Clarice's.


	13. The Pregnancy of Clare

Sabrina felt like she was waking from a daydream. She was still in the pit under the cathedral, but a few things were different from before her daze. Earlier, the green light had seemed to come from the air itself, but now it obviously came from an awakened being hanging from the ceiling. Also, there were two other awakened beings in the room, both in human form. One was feeding on a corpse near the top of the stairs, a streak of blood oozing down the side of the pit below her. The other stood by a pair of men in black who were talking nearby.

Sabrina tried to remember the last few minutes, but drew a blank. She'd killed the male warriors, and then what? She pressed a hand to her forehead. Dietrich had warned her that there might be a warrior who could rile her emotions or make her eyes play tricks on her, but there were so many yoki beings in cells all around the pit that it would be difficult to narrow down which of them was messing with her. The mouthwatering scent of humanity reminded her that the warrior could even be hiding among the humans under the grate. She cracked her knuckles. She supposed she'd just have to kill everything in sight.

She started to reach for her claymores. But. . . What was she doing again? She didn't remember. She had the sensation of waking from a daydream. She was still in the pit, but now there was an awakened being glowing overhead, and two awakened beings in human form, one coming down the stairs while another stood near some men in black.

Sabrina felt like she was waking from a daydream. She was still in the pit, but now two awakened beings in human form were watching her, while behind them Rubel and another man in black shook hands.

"Thank you Raftela," the man in black said. "You can let Sabrina go for a moment. I'd like to speak with her."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant about letting her go. As if any of his pathetic creatures could actually restrain her.

"So you're Nicomedeus," Sabrina said.

"So I am," Nicomedeus said, tugging back his hood to show his face. He was a skeletal man, bald on top, but with tangles of grey hair that trailed from the sides and back of his head onto the grate, longer than the tendrils of an awakened being. His posture was hunched, and he kept one arm clutched over his stomach, as though someone had bitten a hole in his guts, and he needed to hold everything in.

"I've got questions," Sabrina said. "Give me the truth or I'll eat you alive."

"Of course," Nicomedeus said. "In this room, in the light of Raftela, I have no need for lies. You will forget anything it isn't convenient for you to know."

"Forget?" Sabrina said. "I don't see why I'd forget."

Nicomedeus waved his hand, and the green light pulsed. "You said you had questions."

Sabrina frowned. She felt like she'd gotten distracted for a moment, and she couldn't remember what they'd just been talking about. Whatever. She _did_ have questions.

"When I was young, before I became a warrior, did you feed me to yoma over and over again to get me to awaken?" Sabrina asked.

"That makes little sense," Nicomedeus said. "Before you became a warrior, it would be impossible to awaken you, and also, you would have died after the first feeding."

"Yes or no," Sabrina growled. "Was it you?"

"It was and it wasn't," Nicomedeus said.

Sabrina drew her claymores.

Nicomedeus sighed. "You half yoma are so high-strung compared to the awakened. I will tell you all because I think you deserve to know, at least for a little while, but it would be better if you were restrained when you heard."

He signaled with a finger, and the pair of awakened beings charged. Both were fast as abyssals, but the one with spiky hair and blue eyes was slightly quicker, so that's the one Sabrina attacked. Sabrina Carnaged low to the ground, swinging up with Wave Motion Awakening. The thunderclap echoed in the pit, humans screaming at the sound, the grate vibrating underfoot. For a fraction of a second, Sabrina could have sworn the blow swung through the blue-eyed woman's body, but when she looked again, the woman was well out of reach, unharmed, as if the figure Sabrina had struck had been a mirage.

The second, green-eyed woman swung at Sabrina's head, and when Sabrina blocked, the woman's sword arm vanished in a blur. _The quicksword!_ Sabrina thought, and Carnaged backward, but something slammed into the back of her head. She whirled, swinging. Her claymores whooshed through the blue-eyed woman's chest before the mirage vanished, and the blue-eyed woman was unharmed at Sabrina's side, twisting the claymore from Sabrina's right hand. When Sabrina swung with her left, the green-eyed awakened caught the sword by the hilt and ripped it from Sabrina's fingers.

"Enough, Clare," the blue-eyed woman said. "I'll take it from here."

"Cocky bitch," Sabrina said, spitting out a mouthful of blood. She'd bitten her yoma tongue when the back of her head got hit.

The blue-eyed woman sheathed her sword and tossed Sabrina's to her comrade, who caught it and backed out of the fight, leaving Sabrina and the blue-eyed woman barehanded. Sabrina rushed the blue-eyed woman, attacking with fists, elbows, knees, and teeth. Nothing worked. Over and over again, the woman slammed Sabrina's face into the roughness of the grate, until Sabrina was covered in bruises and sweat, her yoki exhausted. She tried to stand, but her muscles were jelly, and she fell against the wall. The blue-eyed woman returned to Nicomedeus's side.

"What do you make of her?" Nicomedeus asked the blue-eyed woman.

"Her power and speed are adequate, and she has good instincts," the blue-eyed woman said, "but her skills are poor. I'll need one year to get her ready to fight the sharytt."

Nicomedeus scratched his scalp, making a sound like sandpaper on bone. "Unfortunate. Even with our fastest ships, the voyage may take three months if the winds are unfavorable. That leaves only four months to reshape her. How strong will she be in four months?"

"Competent," the blue-eyed woman said.

Sabrina clenched her fists. "I already killed a dragon! And I just cut through your whole army by myself. You don't call that competent? Are you insane?"

The woman's gaze was cool. "If you compare yourself to warriors, you are extremely powerful. But that's to be expected. You are two thirds awakened with the yoki of a number one. You are not a strong warrior - you are a weak abyssal. We'll begin fixing that tomorrow. Get some rest."

The blue-eyed woman began climbing the stairs.

"I haven't agreed to be trained by you," Sabrina said, but as soon the words left her mouth, she knew that she would agree. The blue-eyed woman was absurdly skilled - like Techne would be if Techne had the speed of an abyssal. Sabrina would be an imbecile to pass up the chance to learn from her.

When the blue-eyed woman was gone, Rubel seated himself on the bottom step, steepling his fingers. "For what it's worth, I believe she will be ready in four months. . . or close enough that with a little luck. . . well, battle is never certain. . . Now that the Divine Cleaver exists, that's true even for dragons," he said.

"The two of us could do it," the green-eyed woman said. "We killed the dragon at Cataclysm."

"I think not," Nicomedeus said. "You merely outlasted the dragon at Cataclysm until it reverted to an asarakam. The sharytt isn't likely to run out of energy like that. The dragonslayer must have the Divine Cleaver."

"I'll learn it," the green-eyed woman said.

Nicomedeus placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, shaking his head. "I trust you - really - but the person you were before the Cataclysm was too volatile. Better to keep you here in Raftela's light, just to be sure."

The woman gave a sharp sigh and left.

"Well. . . I suppose I'll wish you luck, Nicomedeus, Raftela," Rubel said. "If I'm right, you'll find Sabrina easier to mold than most."

He climbed the stair, leaving Sabrina alone with monsters. Sabrina shivered, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She'd spent every bit of her strength fighting the blue-eyed woman. If Nicomedeus wanted to repeat the scene from her childhood, he could have one of his creatures hold her down, and Sabrina would be helpless.

Nicomedeus was walking closer, his rough cloak scraping against the grate. The creatures in cells watched quietly, the whisper of their breathing echoing back from above. Sweat stung in Sabrina's eyes. Bracing herself against the wall, she half rose, her legs trembling from the strain.

"That's close enough," she said.

Nicomedeus sat in the center of the grate, directly beneath the awakened he'd called Raftela. He hunched over, one arm clutching his stomach, his downturned face leaving his eyes in shadow. Sabrina slid back down to the grate, breathing hard.

"The truth, then," Nicomedeus said. "Do you know, I don't think I've ever told the whole truth before - not to anyone who wasn't awakened, at least. Perhaps you could awaken before we talked? I'd rather speak to the real you. No, nevermind. Rubel said you had to arrive at the duel unawakened, or forfeit the right to fight four against one. You know, I'm quite proud my little Gretta thought up that plan to conquer the mainland, even though it means she's plotting against me. Once Raftela has a moment with you, all Gretta's plots will work for me in the end. Perhaps I'll even give you back to her once all the wars are done - she must be quite fond of you by now, unless I'm very much mistaken. You two are close, aren't you?"

"We hate each other," Sabrina lied. "She says she wants to kill you."

Nicomedeus laughed. "A liar is the hardest kind of man to fool. Gretta could tell a better lie than you when she was four. I remember when I used to give her colloidal lead and silver in yoma blood, she would insist that she could do the injection herself, and she'd come back with an empty syringe, her hands trembling as human hands do when they are afraid, and every time she'd have a story about how much it hurt, and a bloody mark where she said she'd put it in, but every time, I'd go to her room and find that she'd injected it into her mattress or out her window. Once, she became so desperate that she fooled me for weeks by injecting her pet rabbit, though that only worked until it died. Such an intelligent human. I was so excited to see who she'd become when she awakened."

Sabrina's jaw clenched. Someday, if she could convince Gretta to be okay with it, she was going to strap Nicomedeus to a table and see just how long she could torture him before he died.

"Ah, sorry," Nicomedeus said, waving his hand. "It seems I made you too angry. Let's start over."

Raftela's light flared, and Sabrina got the feeling she'd lost her train of thought.

"The truth then," Nicomedeus was saying. "From the first time I entered your life. Though that was before you were born really, back when I was little more than an alchemist and surgeon in Rabona, and a friend to the half-yoma who lived there. Your human father used to buy yoki suppressants from my shop. Your mother was close to her sustained awakening, you see, but rather than accept her black card, your father spent their fortunes on suppressants, to hold her on the edge. He soon ran out of money. In those days, suppressants were worth a hundred times their weight in gold. Demand was high, and there were only three alchemists who had the skill and lore to produce them. Of course, I was one of those three, and within a few years my two competitors . . . passed away of natural causes. . . and I grew to be one of the wealthiest men in the city. I wanted to experiment with yoma fertility, so I supplied your mother with suppressants as a gift, befriending the couple, hoping that they would make me a child someday. I made it a habit to bring food and share meals with them when I visited, meals that sometimes contained a few unusual ingredients that I thought might affect your mother's fertility. I tried quicksilver and powdered moon's shade, and ground bits of the preserved cadavers used in the instruction of surgeons. I tried hundreds of mixtures, and for thirty years, nothing worked. I'm sure you can guess what finally changed that."

The sweet scent of humans wafted up from below. "Guts," Sabrina said.

"Fresh guts," Nicomedeus said. "I should have known from the start. But where was I to get guts? The agents of Necis watched me closely, searching for any hint of guilt, and though I had awakened allies by then, I could barely connive to trade messages with them, much less pass along human organs. You know, I can be a little unbalanced when it comes to my research, so in desperation, I incised my own organs."

He cringed, hunching over his stomach. Sabrina's eyes widened, and she clutched at the grate, her fingernails rasping against the metal.

"Your mother grew pregnant, and I kept the hole in my belly from healing for nine months, feeding you and your mother weekly - daily when I could. I washed my wound constantly with alcohol, but still, it grew infected five times, and five times I nearly died to bring you into the world. Sabrina, some say I kidnapped you from your father, but I was more your father than your father ever was, and more your mother too. Before your mother ever nursed you, I gave you food. Before your father ever saw you, I risked my life for you. You were never his creation, Sabrina. You are _mine_."

The green light pulsed at his words, and Sabrina felt. . . Thankful? Her eyes narrowed. That didn't seem right. She hardly ever felt gratitude, and certainly not toward someone she hated, even if he had saved her. She scanned the cells, looking for a counter-warrior like the ones Dietrich had warned her about. _The green light_ , she thought. It had pulsed the moment her emotions went weird. She almost looked up at Raftela, but stopped herself. If her theory was right, looking up could tip Raftela off.

"Um, thanks," Sabrina told Nicomedeus. "I'm grateful. So, you must've wanted me to awaken after that, which is what my memory is about."

Nicomedeus stood and paced around the pit, looking into the cells as he passed. "I know you may not believe this, but I want you to believe, because you're my creation, more so than any of these creatures, perhaps even more so than Gretta. . . I never hurt you, Sabrina."

"So what do I remember?"

"Memories that are not your own," Nicomedeus said. "It all comes back to Necis - Necis and Cataclysm. When the asarakam landed, most people saw a disaster. I saw opportunity. I manipulated each side of the Baroness Wars to unify against the asarakam in such a way that Necis would be on the front lines. If Necis died, I would be free from scrutiny for the first time in half a century. Even if she did not die, I knew all of her people would be at the Cataclysm, which left me a window of freedom. I joined my awakened allies, snuck into Sutafu, and hid in the ruins of the Old Organization while Cataclysm raged overhead. When the earth ceased to shake and we emerged into the devastation, we found a bounty among the dead and dying. We collected asarakam to make yoma out of. We found Raftela cut down, but still alive, and best of all, we found Clare and Miria, both on the brink of awakening, mere moments from cutting each other's heads off." Nicomedeus winced. "What a waste that would've been. Thank God we arrived when we did."

"Wait, those two women. . ."

"Yes," Nicomedeus said. "They're coming along nicely, aren't they? As you'd expect of awakened beings, both turned sadistic and lost their qualms about killing humans, but Clare still hated me for deceiving her all those years, and Miria. . . who knows what Miria is thinking. She has the self control to hide her feelings as long as she needs to. She could be loyal, or she could be waiting for the chance to take my head. Even with all the work Raftela's put into them, I'm not entirely comfortable letting them roam on their own. Perhaps in a few years, in time for my conquest of Astraea."

Now that Sabrina thought about it, the blue-eyed woman had looked like a lot of the statues and stained glass windows of Miria. Sabrina's bruises seemed to ache less now that she knew she'd lost to the Phantom herself, but she was worried about the level of control Nicomedeus was implying that Raftela had. If Phantom Miria couldn't escape Nicomedeus's control, what chance did Sabrina have? Nicomedeus couldn't force her to betray Gretta. . .Could he?

"I revived the Organization as soon as I got back from Cataclysm," Nicomedeus said, "and within two years, I took you from your father, who would have doomed you to a human life. You were only five, but I couldn't wait make a half-yoma out of you. Only, you had no hatred for yoma, and after Gretta, I was wary of turning you into a colorhead. At the same time, I could not bring myself to traumatize you with yoma to guarantee your hatred."

Nicomedeus's circuit of the pit had brought him close to Sabrina, and now he turned away from her, staring at Raftela, one hand upraised. Sabrina stole a glance at Raftela, who was watching her carefully. Though Sabrina's muscles still felt weak, she might be fast enough. . .

"Raftela gave me my answer," he said. "She had discovered a way to change yoki beings' memories, and unlike the other orphans, you were a yoki being already - one eighth yoma. Raftela tried to fill you with a hatred of yoma not connected to any specific trauma, but she was inexperienced with the technique, and you ended up with some of Raftela's memories from the months after I captured her. I regretted that you were traumatized after all, but it made you ready to be a warrior, and it gave Raftela the practice she needed to bring Clare and Miria to heel. Now that you are here, all will be as it should."

"Yeah," Sabrina said. "I think it will." She rose, grabbed Nicomedeus by the chin and the hair, and twisted as hard as she could, snapping his neck, bringing them face to face. But something was wrong about the crunch of his bones. It felt hollower than most of the necks Sabrina had snapped, and the shock didn't run through her hands as she was used to.

"I'm up here," Nicomedeus said from the edge of the pit. "Well, not truly, but I'm up here for the purposes of our discussion."

The illusory Nicomedeus fell from Sabrina's hands and vanished in the mists around the grate. Sabrina craned her neck and met Raftela's eyes. The awakened woman gazed down at her, looking almost sleepy.

"Damn you, Raftela," Sabrina said. "You'll never control me, I swear it."

Raftela smiled faintly, her radiance flaring, burning away every shadow in the room, brighter and brighter until the light was more white than green. It filled Sabrina's eyes.

It filled Sabrina's mind.

* * *

Most warriors couldn't be held back from their sustained awakening with yoki suppressants, but Clare had pretty good willpower, Raki's emotional support, and most importantly, the block Jean put on her awakening, which was still partially functional even after all those years. With those three factors plus the suppressants, her awakening was slowed to a crawl that would have taken almost a century to complete if Cataclysm and Nicomedeus hadn't intervened.

Fun fact, I was not aware that Clare and Miria were alive until I wrote the end of the previous chapter. In the original outline, they cut each other's heads off to prevent sustained awakening after outlasting Draome (the asarakam Blood Image user) during the Cataclysm. As I was writing the previous chapter, I was brainstorming the most meaningful and dramatic death for Raki. Awakened/brainwashed Clare and Miria not only filled that role, but also made better superweapons for Nicomedeus than the previous idea I had for his weapons. (The previous idea was based on the canon information that Priscilla's absurd power came from her memories of eating her yoma father. Since Raftela can fabricate memories, she could hypothetically implant a backstory similar to Priscilla's into newly made warriors, creating an unlimited number of "artificial Priscillas." This was a problematic idea because, well, it would be _way_ to strong, and Nicomedeus would own the world in a matter of weeks. Even dragons, hell, even Clare's manifestation of Teresa couldn't fight that many Priscillas. Also, although Nicomedeus and Raftela would certainly try creating more powerful hatred in their warriors by fabricating horrific memories, Priscilla's circumstance was presented in canon as highly irregular, with the operative factor not being just the horror of her situation, but also the fact that she _knew_ her father was corrupted by, rather than replaced by, the yoma. It's not too likely that Nicomedeus would happen on that operative factor, so it's not too likely that he'd hit the "artificial Priscilla" jackpot).

Now that I'm feeling chatty and we're on the topic of surprises, the only bigger surprise for me was Catalina killing Cassiopeia. Actually, that whole chapter was a curveball. Originally, Catalina was going to fail to kill Cass, run away into the wilderness, and return when Cassiopeia's army is losing to the dragon Fythsari. Cass, Sabrina, and Cat would then barely take down the dragon using Cass's Wave Motion Awakening (WMA), but Cass would reach sustained awakening in the process. In her last weeks, Cass would train both Sabrina and Cat in WMA, and then give them an arm each before black carding out (a scene reminiscent of Irene's training of Clare). This would have put Catalina and Sabrina on equal footing as rivals, but I liked the version in which Catalina kills Cassiopeia much better because, among other reasons, it lets our main characters take control of the army sooner and makes Sabrina the sole chance of victory in the fight against Fythsari. Main character vs Dragon is much more fun than Secondary Character vs Dragon. Also, we got Techne out of this version. I like Techne.


	14. Sisterhood

Sabrina found Clare in the deepest tunnel, where Raftela's light was dim. Clare sat with her back against her claymore, staring into the darkness like she always did. Even back when Sabrina was a kid, she'd thought there was something wrong with that. It was one thing to be a quiet person, but Clare just seemed gloomy all the time, slouching against her sword like that. Sabrina snuck up on all fours, her bare hands and feet silent against the jagged rock of the tunnel. When she got within twenty feet, she lunged forward and tackled Clare.

"Got you again, Sis," Sabrina said. "You didn't see me coming this time, did you?"

"I can sense yoki," Clare said, standing to brush herself off.

Sabrina bounced to her feet. "I'll remember that and steal some suppressants for next time."

"Don't waste resources. Give it up."

"I'll have to give it up after today," Sabrina said. "I'm about to leave to go fight the sharytt."

"Fine. Go." Clare said, and sat down against her claymore, facing away. Sabrina sighed, and then sat on the other side of the sword, back to back with her sister. The sword was frigid through the fabric of Sabrina's uniform. Everything in the deep tunnels was cold, but Sabrina liked it anyway. The deep tunnels had been her playground when she was a kid, and there was a clean taste to the air down here - the smell of wet rock and underground streams. Clare was usually down here too, and although Clare could be cold, she was much less so once you gave her time to warm up, which is what Sabrina was doing right now. Sabrina's mind had begun to wander by the time Clare spoke up.

"I have a question," Clare said. "Do you ever feel like you've forgotten something important?"

"All the time," Sabrina said. "I guess everyone feels that way occasionally."

"I feel it constantly," Clare said. "There was an old man I ate four months ago. I keep remembering him. I don't know why."

"I remember this girl Nicomedeus brought home for me when I was ten," Sabrina said. "Her guts had just the right amount of firmness, so they popped when you bit into them. I've never found another one like her."

Sabrina licked her teeth at the memory, but Clare had fallen silent again.

"Sorry," Sabrina said. "I guess that's not the kind of thing you were talking about. I'm always saying the wrong thing with you Sis."

"It's fine," Clare said. "I'm happy for you. You're finally going outside."

"I wish you could come," Sabrina said. "I know how much you want to. Almost seventeen years since Cataclysm, and Nicomedeus still doesn't trust you or big Sis. You must have been real terrors before."

"I wish I could remember," Clare said.

Nicomedeus said that Clare and Miria had both taken head wounds at Cataclysm, and while Miria didn't remember anything from before the battle, Clare remembered some half-yoma named Teresa. Clare was always trying to remember more, but Sabrina thought she would be better off not knowing. Deep down, Clare was a big softie: she'd probably brood even harder if she had to remember all the terrible stuff she'd done.

The silence stretched between them. Sabrina shifted, trying to find a position where the rock of the tunnel floor didn't dig into her butt.

"So. . ." Sabrina said. "Any advice on dragonslaying?"

"I don't remember fighting the dragon," Clare said. "But Nicomedeus told me some theories about dragons. Do you want to hear them?"

"If I'm going to fight the king of dragons, I'd have to be pretty stupid not to take any knowledge I can get."

"The technique asarakam use to become dragons is called Blood Phantasm," Clare said. "To turn into a being, you have to be its descendant or have a part of it inside of you. Then, if your love for that being is fierce enough, you can manifest it."

"That doesn't make sense," Sabrina said. "Dragons are extinct. How are asarakam supposed to love them?"

"When asarakam have children, they share memories," Clare said. "That way all of them remember their ancestor dragons. That's why only asarakam can learn the technique, except. . . Nicomedeus says I used it at Cataclysm, with Teresa instead of a dragon. That's how I won."

Sabrina scooted around the sword to face her sister. "Damn, really? With that kind of power, you don't have to wait for Nicomedeus's permission to leave. Come with me. We'll cut our way out if we have to. I bet Miria will come too, and even if she doesn't, your Blood Phantasm can knock her out of the way."

Clare's eyes glittered green in the darkness. "Are you serious? You would go against Father for me?"

"I would," Sabrina said. "I like Father, but if there's anything he taught us, it's that only awakened beings and warriors matter. A human is just a human."

Sabrina offered Clare a hand, pulling her to her feet, and they walked through the tunnels side by side, the light of Raftela brightening as they ascended. Sabrina felt butterflies in her stomach as they neared the main cavern. She never remembered defying Nicomedeus before, and the way he acted so casually even around his craziest monsters made her suspect that he had some kind of secret weapon up his sleeve.

Nicomedeus and Miria were waiting for them down in the pit. Sabrina leapt from the edge, and after a moment of weightlessness, her feet slammed into the rough iron of the grate, her nose filling with the sweet scent of the food trapped below. As always, Nicomedeus's monsters peered out from the gloom of their cells. A new yoma beast raised its snout to sniff in the cell behind Nicomedeus, its body so twisted and bulging with strength that Sabrina had no idea what animal it had been before Nicomedeus got to it.

Clare landed at Sabrina's side.

"Father," Clare said. "I'm going to fight with Sabrina."

"Want to come with us, Big Sis?" Sabrina asked.

Miria rubbed her fist on her chin, which meant she was calculating something. Her eyes flickered up at Raftela.

"No," Miria said. "Father, should I restrain them?"

"No need," Nicomedeus said. "You've proven yourself again, Miria. And Clare, sometimes I think I'll have to keep you down here forever."

"How are you even planning on stopping us?" Sabrina said. "You must have a lot of confidence in your secret weapon. Go on, bring it on out."

"Raftela," Nicomedeus said.

"What, that glorified chandelier?" Sabrina said. "Yeah right."

The light flared. . .

"Did you get a chance to say goodbye to Clare?" Nicomedeus asked.

"Yeah," Sabrina said. "She's in the deep tunnels, gloomy as usual. Is it true she can manifest a Blood Phantom, or did you just tell her that?"

"It's true," Nicomedeus said. "So, are you ready to go?"

"You have no idea how ready I am," Sabrina said.

"Good," Nicomedeus said. "I have one last warning for you before you leave. Among the warriors who will face the sharytt with you, there is a colorhead called Gretta. Once the dragon is dead, Gretta will become the new sharytt by asarakam law. Detain her and bring her to me."

Sabrina wasn't sure how much use a colorhead was going to be against a dragon, but at least Gretta would be easy enough to capture. Nicomedeus put a hand on Sabrina's shoulder.

"I wish you luck, my child. When you return, return awakened. I am looking forward to meeting you."

He climbed the steps, leaving her with her favorite person in the world. Sabrina grinned at her sister.

"Think I'll win?" Sabrina asked.

"Your chance isn't zero," Miria said. "Remember what I taught you. Use Carnage tactically. Plan three steps ahead."

"I'll remember," Sabrina said. "If that's all, I'm off."

"Wait," Miria said. "I'm hungry. Eat with me."

"Actually, I just ate yesterday," Sabrina said.

"I know. Eat with me."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. Her sister did nothing without a reason. Miria pulled the latch in the center of the floor and opened the trapdoor in the grate, the hinges singing as sweetly as a human scream. The food recoiled from the trapdoor, but Miria's arm stretched to catch one, dragging him out and throwing him toward Sabrina. Sabrina pounced and caught his stomach with her teeth, dragging him down by his guts. His hands shoved frantically at the side of her head, but she barely noticed as she dug into him. She shut one eye as warm blood splattered over it, licking her eyelid clean before chewing deeper. When the prey tried to pull her head away by the braid, Sabrina reached over and tugged each of his arms until, with gentle pops, they dislocated. Miria knelt across from her and lowered her head beside Sabrina's, close enough that their ears brushed.

"Don't react to anything I say," Miria whispered. "Just eat."

Even with their heads touching, Sabrina barely heard Miria's whisper over the human's screams and the wet sounds of ripping guts. Miria bit into the human, and whispered a few words between every bite.

"I have no proof, just a theory. . . I was suspicious. . . Clare and I both lost our memories from before Cataclysm. . . that seemed unlikely. . . and convenient for Nicomedeus, who seems to fear our past selves. . . suspect our memories had been tampered with. . ."

"Memory tampering?" Sabrina whispered. "I never heard of a power like that."

"If it existed, we wouldn't remember hearing about it. . ." Miria whispered. "I investigated my memory. . . assigned a number to every major thought in a day. . . I started with one and counted up, memorizing them . . . Sometimes, thoughts went missing . . . never half forgotten, like a real forgetting - vanished . . . I remembered all but number seven, or all but five. . . made a rule to always think about escaping on number two. . . killing Nicomedeus on number three. . . forgot two and three every day. . ."

Sabrina felt a tingle up her spine. The guts seemed to sour on her tongue. "If you're right. . . Father's our enemy, isn't he. . . but he's human. . . a power like that must take yoki. . ."

"I suspect Raftela. . ." Miria said. "Would explain why Nicomedeus won't let us leave her light. . ."

"How long have you known?" Sabrina asked.

"Twelve years. . ."

"Twelve years, and you haven't tried to escape. . . Or do I just not _remember_ you trying to escape?"

"I would have tried quickly. . ." Miria whispered. "since we don't remember it. . .I failed. . . probably many times. . ."

"You're telling me this because I'm leaving the light. . ." Sabrina said.

"It's a calculated risk. . . for all we know, there's nothing beyond the light. . . no world above. . . maybe you'll come back remembering a world that you never really went to. . . maybe Clare and Nicomedeus aren't real. . . just counterfeit memories. . . Raftela could be God, and us her dolls. But. . . if there is an end to the light. . . don't come back for us. . . Live for yourself. . . sister. . . don't risk being caught again. . ."

Miria snapped up the last kidney and stood. Sabrina drank the blood that pooled around the man's spine. She could feel Raftela's eyes on the back of her neck. She had to act natural, or Raftela would know. Sabrina dragged the corpse back to the trapdoor by its foot. Was that weird? Did she normally drag it by the neck? Just how tiny of a difference in behavior could Raftela notice? Sabrina dropped the corpse beneath the grate and latched the trapdoor, trying to breathe evenly. She had to get out of here before she gave herself away. Miria met her by the steps and handed her a pair of claymores. Sabrina jammed them into her thigh sheaths.

"Stay safe," Miria said.

Sabrina hugged her. "You're my sister, Miria. No matter what happens out there, I'll come back. I promise."

 _I'll come back with a goddamn army._

* * *

This is the shortest chapter (unless you count the prologue/epilogue).

We're very near the end.


	15. Blessed Arrangement

Dietrich stood on a gravel beach, watching as the second and third galleys they'd stolen from the Organization lay anchor a few hundred feet out, the awakened beings leaping into the water to join their comrades from the first ship, who stood with Dietrich on the beach. Beyond the galleys, the sea was choppy and grey. Salt-smelling winds tugged at Dietrich's hair. Her cape whispered and snapped behind her.

Somewhere across the water, Captain Miria was alive. Better yet, Captain Miria was awakened. All these years, Dietrich thought she'd failed in her responsibility to the Captain. Now that she knew she had a second chance, she felt light enough to float. Her duty was simple now - save Captain Miria. She would not fail.

Scores of awakened beings of all shapes and sizes rose from the waves and climbed onto the beach, water streaming from their chitinous plates. Once, Dietrich would have thought that three hundred awakened beings enough to attack the Organization head on to rescue Miria. Then again, once, she had thought Sabrina alone would be enough. Clare's daughter had seemed unstoppable when she returned from the mainland. She'd marched into Dietrich's headquarters with her fists on her hips and informed the awakened beings of Sutafu that they would obey her. After slaughtering all the awakened who refused to be led by a half-yoma, she'd proceeded to crush the Organization in a half dozen battles, awakening hundreds. When she'd announced she was going to kill Nicomedeus, it had seemed absurd to think that she could lose. Dietrich warned her about the possibility of a counter warrior, and Sabrina had assured her that she wouldn't be tricked if enemies looked like the person she cared about. They'd both underestimated Nicomedeus, a mistake they would not repeat.

Sabrina shot out of the water and skidded to a halt on the beach, her boots rattling as they scattered pebbles. A dozen of her strongest awakened beings landed behind her. At first, the troops had been put off by the changes Raftela's manipulations had made in Sabrina, but they'd soon learned to prefer the new version, since this one had grown up with awakened beings as sisters, which made her much more sympathetic to the awakened than the old Sabrina had been.

Dietrich fell into step on Sabrina's right, and they lead their horde from the beaches onto the snowy plains of the mainland, making for the mountains faded with distance on the horizon. Snow crunched under their boots, the wind whipping Dietrich's hair into her face.

"How fast can this army go?" Sabrina asked her.

"If we conserve yoki and keep pace with the slowest, sixty miles per day," Dietrich said.

"Too slow," Sabrina said. "What if we leave the slowest to guard the ships and use a quarter of our yoki?"

"Roughly two hundred miles per day." Dietrich said.

Sabrina gave the order, and three dozen awakened beings fell back to the ships. The rest dashed across the snowfield, raising a cloud of snow behind the army. Dietrich frowned. Spending this much yoki would leave them hungry and slightly weakened by the time they reached the mountains. It probably wouldn't matter, but it was an error the old Sabrina would have had sufficient command experience to avoid. Dietrich was worried that, once they controlled the mainland and returned with an overwhelming force to free Miria, Sabrina might make a blunder at a critical moment and lose to Raftela's power.

The possibility troubled Dietrich most of the day, but by evening, as the land began to rise into rocky foothills and the wind grew to a gale, she was worrying about a far worse scenario. The way Sabrina had explained it after she returned from the mainland, killing the sharytt would make Gretta the ruler of the mainland. Back then, that had seemed synonymous with making Sabrina the ruler, since Sabrina talked as if the two were practically married, but with Sabrina's memory gone, and her personality even closer to that of an awakened being than it was before. . . Well, Gretta was a warrior. It would only be natural if Gretta turned against them, which would leave Dietrich without an overwhelming army to free Miria. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't even told Sabrina that she had a history with Gretta. . .

* * *

Sabrina ran along a mountain ridge with shaly cliffs on either side, leaping over huge notches in the stone that must have been left by dragon claws millennia ago. Overhead, stormclouds boiled with a wind so strong that it blew Sabrina off course with every leap, plastering her clothes against her skin and sending her heart to her throat each time she landed, sliding, on ice. To the west, the last rays of sunset crept in under the clouds, casting the mountainsides in orange, and far below on the snow plains was a collection of specks clumped around a river - a city which Dietrich had called Kiphytt, the mainland's capital.

Sabrina cackled into the wind. She loved the mountains even more than she'd loved the ocean. The black crags and colossal, treacherous peaks were infinitely more dramatic than anything in Raftela's tunnels. She added the Dragonlair Mountains to her list of places she'd show her sisters once they were free.

In two bounds, Sabrina surged up a cliff and landed on a peak with a crunch, shattering ice beneath her boots. She scanned the world below her - endless mountains on her right - endless plains on her left. She wondered if her old self had ever been here, maybe when she'd killed the dragon Fythsari. According to Dietrich, she'd done all sorts of things in the past few years, though that was nothing compared to all the stuff Dietrich said Miria and Clare had done. Sabrina hated Nicomedeus for what he'd done to her sisters, but honestly, if half of Dietrich's stories about Miria and Clare were true, Sabrina could at least understand why he'd been frightened enough to keep them so tightly under Raftela's control. She was still going to kill him for it, but she could understand.

Dietrich climbed onto the peak beside Sabrina. Aside from Dietrich they'd left the awakened beings in the foothills so the sharytt wouldn't think they were planning on using an army in the duel. Dietrich pointed deeper into the mountains.

"I sense our other allies that way," Dietrich said.

Sabrina nodded and prepared to leap, but Dietrich caught her by the arm.

"Before we go, there's something I have to tell you," Dietrich said. "You. . . have a girlfriend."

"Wh-Seriously?" Sabrina blushed.

"Yes, and she's with our allies. It will be easier to beat Nicomedeus if you get along with her. Do your best."

Dietrich stepped toward the cliff.

"wait," Sabrina said. "I have a lot of questions."

"Ask her yourself," Dietrich said, and leapt.

Sabrina followed more slowly. Did Dietrich not want to answer questions because there was something wrong with Sabrina's girlfriend? Well, besides the fact that Sabrina's girlfriend was probably a half-yoma and not an awakened being. Although, Sabrina supposed she was technically still a half-yoma herself. She rubbed her temples, using her Carnage spikes for traction as she darted across the top of a glacier. There were much more fundamental questions to worry about, like, was her girlfriend cute? Sabrina could probably trust her old self's taste, except that Dietrich said Sabrina used to be known for eating yoma guts, which tasted horrific. What kind of relationship did they have? If it was mostly physical, losing memories might not be a big deal, but if they were closer than that, how was Sabrina going to break the news? What if Sabrina didn't like her? What if Sabrina's girlfriend didn't like her? Why would that affect their chances of saving Clare and Miria?

Sabrina bumped into a wall. She backed up, rubbing her nose, and found herself at the base of a rock face that disappeared into the clouds. A stairway sized for dragons climbed into a hole in the cliff. Sabrina had bumped her nose on the lowest step, which was almost as tall as the sides of the pit under Raftela. She leapt up the steps, the wind dying down as she pressed deeper into the mountain, the air taking on the cold, clean smell of underground places.

As she neared the top, grey light filtered down to her, along with voices, some of them female. Sabrina stopped on the third step down, taking a deep breath. She brushed some ice crystals off her uniform, and noticed that she was filthy with old bloodstains. Well, it was too late to do anything about that - she'd just have to hope her old self went around covered in blood too. She thought the wind might have mussed her hair, so she redid her ponytail, feeling the tiny braids slip through her fingers. There were fifty six of them, one for every awakened kill and a big one for the dragon, or so Dietrich said. Sabrina supposed if she could kill a dragon, she could probably deal with her girlfriend.

Sabrina hopped up the last three steps into a cavern so large it made her feel like an insect. The click of her boots took two seconds to echo back to her, and the far wall was distant enough to be shrouded in darkness, even to her silver eyes. Three people spoke nearby. One was a man in black. Another was Dietrich. So the last must be her girlfriend.

Sabrina's eyebrows shot up. The woman was definitely pretty, but she had a stare sharp enough to stab through a person's face. Her golden hair streamed down her left side, her armor coating her right and only arm. It was hard to imagine how Sabrina had ended up with someone that scary.

"Ah, Sabrina," the man in black said. "I already told Gretta about your memory. . . well, several months ago. She's been preparing something for you."

"She is resting in the chambers to your right," said the woman who was thankfully not Sabrina's girlfriend. Sabrina hoped all warriors weren't that intimidating. At least she could be glad that she wouldn't have to tell Gretta about her memory.

Through an opening three times Sabrina's height, she found a corridor cut into the stone, with red light flickering in a doorframe at the end. She stepped through.

Sabrina's girlfriend was a redhead. For a moment, Sabrina thought Gretta must be awakened, except that she was wrapped up to her chin in a fur blanket, her nose and ears red from the cold. Was she _human?_ Had Sabrina been dating food? More importantly, Gretta had a blood red flame on the top of her head, which she was using as a light to read a scroll. Sabrina decided that a human would definitely not light her head on fire as a reading light.

Sabrina sat in front of Gretta. "You're on fire," she said.

Gretta looked up, and when she saw Sabrina, she beamed, the fire on top of her head blazing higher, covering her hair. Gretta opened her arms.

"Hugs pleeease."

Sabrina blushed. Awakened or food or whatever, her girlfriend was definitely cute.

"Uh, sure," Sabrina said, and the redhead pounced, throwing her blanket over them both and wrapping her arms around Sabrina's shoulders. After to the chill of the mountains, it was warm under the furs, smelling of grass and earth.

"This must be pretty weird for you, huh?" Gretta said. "But it's been a whole year since I saw you. A yeeear. So give me a minute, okay?"

The redhead held on tight, her ribs pressing against Sabrina's with every breath, as if she was trying to pull Sabrina into her heart.

"I missed you," Gretta said. "I missed you lots."

Her breath brushed the side of Sabrina's neck, and Sabrina understood what kind of relationship they had - how much they had to lose if it didn't work out. It was strange finding out that someone she'd never met loved her. Strange and wonderful. Sabrina hugged her back.

They sat together against the wall, and the red flame danced in front of them, curving this way and that. Sabrina couldn't tell if it was following Gretta's gaze or if Gretta's eyes were following it.

"Sooo," Gretta said. "There's a big plot I've been preparing for you, but first, you must have questions."

"Yes," Sabrina said. "What are you?"

Gretta giggled. "ooh, before I give it away, what's your guess?"

"You smell slightly human," Sabrina said.

"Wrooong," Gretta said. "I'm a colorhead. I failed as a warrior because I don't hate yoma."

"You don't? Good, because I'm going to awaken to kill the sharytt. I'm glad you won't mind."

"Rather than minding, it almost seems too easy," Gretta said. "I spent months and months and _months_ trying to get you to awaken without letting on what I was doing. I even plotted your first meeting with Dietrich. Oh, and I had to trick you into thinking I hated yoma too, or you would've been really mad."

"That's a lot of deception," Sabrina said.

Gretta crinkled her nose. "Sorry. I stayed as close to the truth as I could, but we each had one dark secret. Mine was that I like yoma aaalmost as much as Nicomedeus does. As for yours, well, I think I can guess from all the red blood on your face. That explains why so many sailors disappeared on our way to the mainland, and why you got so gloomy too."

"My only other question is what _that_ thing is," Sabrina pointed at the blood red flame, which was slithering along the far wall. Gretta held out her hand, and it returned to her, curling up in her palm.

"Want to hold it?" Gretta asked.

"Absolutely."

Gretta touched her fingers to Sabrina's, and the fire climbed onto Sabrina's hand. It tingled, like a single percent of yoki focused onto her palm.

"It's dragonfire," Gretta said. "Myyy dragonfire. After you killed its dragon, I kept it alive by feeding it yoki from my sky helper."

"Sky helper?"

"Oh yeah," Gretta said. "You get to meet sky helper too now. Follow me, follow me."

Gretta bounced to her feet and led the way through an archway and up a spiral staircase. At the top, they entered a cavern that seemed as large as a mountain. Rain poured from an opening in the ceiling, the water pooling into a lake in the center of the floor, its surface shivering and jumping as more droplets splashed in. The walls echoed with the roar of rain striking water. A circle of grey light fell on the lake, but beyond that, from the edge of the darkness all the way to the walls, Sabrina saw rows of human skeletons chained to the floor. More manacles hung from the ceiling and walls, but only a few bones lay tangled among them - the skeletons they'd held must have smashed against the floor long ago. Sabrina thought there might be ten thousand manacles or more - the dragon who'd lived here must have been voracious. Gretta started toward the water, picking her way between the skeletons. Sabrina followed, bones snapping beneath her feet.

"Well," Gretta said. "It's raining muuuch too hard for sky helper to fly to meet us, but it's good we're up here anyway, so we can do my plot. Well, if you want to do the plot, that is."

"What is it?" Sabrina asked.

"Baaasically, it all comes from the fact that we're going to lose the duel," Gretta said.

Sabrina tossed her hair. "I'm not going to lose."

"You will, you will. See, I started a spy network on the mainland while you were gone, and my spies figured out that the sharytt doesn't just turn into a dragon, he turns into _the_ dragon - Asarakam the Invincible, the ancestor of all the others. There's this one story where an immortal sorcerer is trying to kill the dragons, so he tricks all of them into fighting Asarakam, and Asarakam wins suuuper easily because he's about a billion times faster than any of the others."

"Those stories are probably exaggerated," Sabrina said.

"I'd agree with you if they were human stories," Gretta said, "Buuut, the asarakam get all their memories from their ancestors, so their legends are always accurate. Asarakam really was that powerful. I doubt I can even manipulate his fire."

"I'll still win," Sabrina grumbled.

Gretta giggled. "You might if you use my plot. See, Asarakam is only the strongest because it's got waaay more yoki than anything else that ever lived, so if you think about it, the only way to beat him is with his own yoki."

"Like a weaponized yoki manipulation technique?" Sabrina asked.

"Kiiind of," Gretta said. "Only his focus is too good to fall for yoki manipulation, so we'll have to absorb his yoki by force."

"You can do that?" Sabrina asked.

"I wish. But I do know something that can," Gretta said. "Did you ever hear that story about the goddesses of hate wrecking a bunch of towns around Rabona?"

"Dietrich did tell me something like that. At least, she said there was a mile tall monster that looked like a pair of goddesses, and since Teresa and Clare wouldn't kill everything in sight, people assumed it was Edea and Sabrina, or at least something trying to look like them. She said my sister Clare got sucked into it too, though that part was kind of hard to follow."

"Yeppers, that's pretty much the same story Rubel told me," Gretta said. "Apparently it could suck yoki out of anything alive, even humans. Sounds suspiiiciously like phase two _heshfithcys_ , doesn't it?"

" _heshfithcys?_ "

"Oh, right."

Gretta explained about dragon reproduction, her tame fire forming shapes in the air as an object lesson, brilliant red against the darkness of the cavern.

"So you think a pair of powerful asarakam were reproducing," Sabrina said, "and the back to back goddesses were the form they took to gather life energy for their kid."

"Exactly," Gretta said. "Or rather, that's exactly what I uuused to think when I thought about that story, but I talked to Rubel, and as usual, he made things way more interesting. See, he says it wasn't asarakam using _heshfithcys_ , but a warrior and her abyssal sister. Rubel doesn't even think they practiced beforehand. He says it probably just happened on accident. Sooo if you think about it. . . th-that implies. . . ."

Gretta was turning as red as her fire. Sabrina stopped as the implication hit, barely noticing the crunch of a ribcage under her boot.

"You're saying we could do it."

"Wh-who me? I didn't say that," Gretta said, the fire hiding behind her skirts. "B-but if you. . . you know, wanted to, I guess we could try, and if it worked I could probably get rid of the blocks Raftela put on your memory, once I was inside your head, and if we're reeeally lucky, we might even be able to absorb Asarakam and dissolve him into yoki, which would be easier than trying to kill him outright, or at least it would be _possible_ , and I promised myself I wouldn't say any of this stuff about how much easier it will make the battle because this sort of thing should really be your personal decision, and I don't want to manipulate you into it or anything like that. I mean I do want to, I really, really want to, but I know I shouldn't. So, so. . . I'll just leave it at that."

"I've got to think," Sabrina said.

"O-of course. Take as long as you need," Gretta said. "I'll be in the lake."

Sabrina paced toward the walls. Gretta's grassy scent faded, replaced by the musty smell of old bones. Now that Sabrina knew about _heshfithcys_ , it was obvious what this cavern was designed for. She wondered if the sharytt had been born here, and whether his parents had known each other well. She rubbed her forehead. She liked Gretta, but from Sabrina's perspective, they'd only known each other for ten minutes. Even the most rigid arranged marriages had marriage interviews longer than that, and sharing memories was a much bigger deal than marriage. Sabrina wished her sisters were here to talk it through. She always used to go to Clare first, to sort her feelings out, and then to Miria, to form a practical plan.

She tried to talk it through in her head as she paced through the dragon's lair, and found herself in a corridor sized for dragons, with one wall made of transparent crystal, offering a view of the storm-blasted mountains outside. Thunder rumbled through the hall like the grumble of fire in a dragon's chest. At the midpoint of the hall, the one-armed warrior knelt, her back against the storm. Sabrina wondered if they'd been friends. She knelt opposite the warrior.

"Hi," Sabrina said.

The warrior stared back impassively.

"I don't know if we really talked, before," Sabrina said.

"We did not."

"Right," Sabrina said.

Sabrina shifted on her knees, her eyes evading the warrior's gaze. Outside, a fork of lightning blasted a shower of rocks from a high crag. Sabrina watched them crash against the mountainside and tumble downhill until they fell out of sight.

"I swore to kill you," the warrior said.

Sabrina's attention snapped back to the warrior's face, but the woman would not meet her eyes. She stared at her only hand, which lay flat on the polished rock of the floor.

"Twice I swore it," the warrior said. "I hated you. Even after I turned my back on fury, I hated you, for Susan especially. Yet here you are, alive. What good have I done, these two years? I assisted the operation that slaughtered a hundred thousand people at Trona. I lost my arm. I crippled the best warrior I ever knew. The eighty who chose to follow me all awakened, and I was helpless to stop them."

"You get to help kill a dragon," Sabrina said. "That's pretty good, right?"

"Yes, I will place Gretta on the throne, with you, Dietrich, and Rubel to poison her with your counsel. Perhaps she will be slightly less ruthless than the current sharytt. More likely she will be the same. Or maybe she will be worse. Who can say what she will become when your befouled mind fuses with hers?"

"So you think I should go through with the _heshfithcys_?" Sabrina asked.

The warrior's eyes met Sabrina's. "You would ask me for advice? You hated me as much as I hated you."

"And I probably will again when I get my memories back, but I don't at the moment. Right now I just need someone to talk to. Why act like we hate each other when it benefits neither of us?"

The warrior's mouth opened. She sat back against the quartz, looking lost, the iron certainty melting out of her gaze. "Alright," she said. "Let us talk. It has been years since I gave and received counsel."

"You first," Sabrina said. "What's eating you?"

Catalina stood and faced the storm, her armor flashing with reflected lightning. "I once told you that it was my code to destroy evil instantly. It seemed a good code. Straightforward. Logical. Destroy evil long enough, and evil would vanish from the world - that was my thinking. I never would have spoken to you like this. I would have killed Dietrich on sight. . ."

"But then you lost your arm and all the rest," Sabrina said. "That must've hurt."

"Yes, failure hurt," the warrior said, "but I had failed before, back when I hunted deserters as a trainee. I understood that I was sometimes too weak to destroy evil, or that I could make mistakes. None of those failures. . . _ruined_ me like killing Cassiopeia did. Because killing Cassiopeia wasn't truly failure, it was success. I followed my code exactly, I was strong enough to carry it out, and the evil in the world only increased as a result. Even if I hadn't crippled Techne, it still would have increased. The basic assumption of my code, that vanquishing evil would have a good effect, was broken, and so too was my purpose." She leaned her forehead against the window. "So I swore off anger, vowing to become what Techne could have been had I not crippled her."

Sabrina rose and stood beside the warrior, touching the crystal wall, which was cold and smooth. She glanced sideways at the warrior, and saw her jaw clenched, her eyebrows knitted.

"I have not truly become like Techne," Catalina said. "I controlled my fury, yes, but I was still operating on principles I knew to be broken. I still tried to vanquish evil, only less violently than before. I cannot think of how else to live. Even now, I question whether I should kill Dietrich or not. I question whether I should even fight the sharytt. I am afraid to act. I am afraid of inaction. I sense evil in either course."

"You talk about Techne a lot," Sabrina said.

"Of course," the warrior said. "If we become warriors to destroy evil, then she is the perfect warrior. I have never met anyone else who I thought, for certain, would decrease the evil in the world. Despite being crippled, I know she is doing right somewhere."

"So find her," Sabrina said.

The warrior turned toward Sabrina. "Why? She does not need me. She would probably curse the sight of me."

"So?" Sabrina said. "If you want to learn a sword move, you find a master and copy her until you surpass her. Why should learning a way of life be different? If Techne curses the sight of you, watch how she curses, and learn. She's the one you need to talk to, not me. "

The warrior cocked her head. "I think your time in Rabona did you good," she said. "Perhaps the mainland will not be quite the hellscape I imagined if you and Gretta take over."

The warrior turned her back on the storm and strode away. "Farewell Dragonslayer. I have a long journey ahead of me. I would make a start."

"Wait," Sabrina said, "what about my advice?"

The warrior looked over her shoulder at Sabrina, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "The way you treat Gretta is your only redeeming quality. Join with her. You will be better for it, and happier."

The warrior left, and Sabrina climbed back up to the lake room. She had her answer. Had there been hard truths to tell about her relationship with Gretta, Sabrina had no doubt that the one-armed warrior would have told her, and blamed the problem on some kind of moral shortcoming. If the one-armed warrior approved of the melding, well, it was a better indicator than a ten minute interview, at least. Sabrina imagined being with Gretta would be like getting a third sister, except this one wouldn't be as taciturn as the other two, oh and she'd also have sex with this one, so that was nice.

From the center of the lake, Gretta watched Sabrina approach. Leaving her clothes with Gretta's on the bank, Sabrina dove in. The water was icy and clear, fresh from the sky. The surface danced with raindrops above her, turning the opening in the ceiling into a shimmering circle of light, like a grey sun. She surfaced next to Gretta amidst the hiss of rain on water. Gretta was bobbing up and down in the, chewing one of her knuckles.

"Alright," Sabrina said. "How do we start?"

Gretta beamed. "It's eeeasy," she said. "Just hold me as tight as you can. I'll do the rest."

Sabrina caught the girl in her arms, and squeezed. Gretta gasped as the breath was forced from her lungs, her delicate bones flexing in Sabrina's grip. Gretta squeaked,

"Harder."

Sabrina obeyed, and felt tingling heat where their bodies touched. She tried to shift her grip to squeeze harder, but her arms were stuck against Gretta's back, and Sabrina felt hot, foreign blood flood her veins. For a moment, she thought she felt a creature of immense power squeezing her, but then she realized that she was feeling through Gretta's nerves.

 _almost there_ , Gretta thought. _Can you still see, Sabrina?_

Sabrina couldn't. Even the flow of water against her skin was fading. She could barely feel her own body.

 _Peeerfect_ , Gretta thought, and Sabrina sensed that somewhere, the redhead was bouncing with excitement. _What a nice mental structure you have! It's all clean and symmetrical. Ooh, I think I see Raftela's meddling. Wow, memory manipulation isn't neeearly as elegant as it sounds. She pretty much just swept all the memories she didn't like into a pile and threw a mental block on them. Okay okay, I see an emotion that's about to form into a thought about me being too one-sided in exploring your mind, so I'll show you mine too._

Sabrina's attention shifted, and she sensed Gretta's mind. It wasn't like seeing any more than it was like hearing or smelling. If anything, it was touch - a brush of something soft here, a rhythmic tap there, and with every touch came a _sense_ , like a taste if tastes could convey concepts and emotions. There were two parts to Gretta's mind. In the larger part, emotions nuzzled past slowly, their shapes soft and circular. At the moment, they were warm with love. The second part felt liquid, with a rapid pulse, constantly moving. Though smaller, it was intricate with hair-fine mechanisms wound into spirals, twisting forward and backward, alive with interest. Webs of filaments drifted between both parts, and when Sabrina focused on a thread, she found herself in a child's body, sitting on a black robed lap with her father's arms around her as he told her a story. His voice filled her with comfort, but also a little fear. Her throat was stiff with scabs, and it hurt. She looked up at her father's face, and saw Nicomedeus smiling down at her. _He's a good daddy after all. He won't hurt me again._

Sabrina shook off the memory.

 _Hold on_ , Sabrina thought. _You're Nicomedeus's daughter too? We're sisters?_

Gretta's mind swirled with amusement, like a giggle. _Whaaat? I definitely would've told you if we were sisters. Not that that would really bother you. There's some fascinating subconscious stuff going on over here. You know, I think most warriors have their psychology founded on their human memories as a kid, but yours are founded in the memories the awakened Raftela gave you when you were five. Oh, and speeeaking of which, let me get rid of Raftela's meddling for you._

Sabrina felt whole, as if an open wound she hadn't known was there had closed. If she'd been able to feel her lungs, she would have sighed with relief. She was no longer just Nicomedeus's Sabrina. She was Yoma Blood Sabrina, Cassiobrina the sharytt, Dragonslayer Sabrina. She dug into her memories like they were guts overflowing from a wound, experiencing them from the beginning onward, Gretta's mind experiencing along with her. When they reached the part where Gretta introduced herself, they began to see through both their eyes at once, comprehending their own and each other's perspectives simultaneously. Sabrina understood Gretta's calculations in the first days of their trek across Toulouse, felt her delight upon predicting that Sabrina might accept Gretta for the manipulator she was. Gretta felt the warmth in Sabrina's chest as they embraced in the moonlit pool in Sutafu. _I want you close to me_. They poured over each other's memories and thoughts and feelings, until each understood the other utterly, more fully than they had ever understood anything. Sabrina could only describe it as an embrace of minds.

In the wake of remembering, they thought nothing. Sabrina didn't have to think anything - it was enough to feel the warmth Gretta's mind close by, more familiar and natural than Sabrina's own blood, and to know that Gretta felt the same for her.

 _Hey Sabriiina_ , Gretta thought.

 _Yeah?_

 _Wanna make a kid?_

 _. . . Yes,_ Sabrina thought. _A very strong one._

Gretta's mind rippled with a mischievous giggle. _I wonder, where could we find a suitably gigaaantic amount of yoki? Oh right, Asarakam himself is about to show up._

 _We still might lose, you know,_ Sabrina thought.

 _You don't really believe that,_ Gretta thought. _And neither do I. So get ready, I'm going to need all your hunger and aggression to set up phase two, and also a whooole bunch of that two-thirds-abyssal yoki of yours._

If Sabrina had a body, she would have rolled her shoulders. At long last, it was time to face off against the king of dragons.

She unleashed her yoki.


	16. Awakening

Dietrich stood in the entrance cavern, alone. The walls rumbled with muffled thunder. It was the night of Cataclysm, when Catalina was supposed to duel the sharytt alongside the second phase of Gretta and Sabrina's _heshfithcys_. Only Catalina had abandoned her duty and disappeared, and Gretta and Sabrina were fused together at the bottom of the lake under the mountain's peak, oblivious to the world.

The scrape of footsteps echoed in the cavern. An asarakam three times Dietrich's height strode toward her out of the gloom, its trio of eyes shining gold. Dietrich had never seen an asarakam before, so she had no point of comparison, yet she knew this was the sharytt. Its aura burned like the sun. It wore no armor or clothing, and even its skin seemed to have been peeled away. The body underneath was a pillar of black muscles and white plates of bone, a mane of silver hair cascading down its back. Its golden eyes looked down upon Dietrich, bathing her in their light, and when it spoke, its voice was low and clear, the note of an iron bell.

"I behold you, child of sorcery, and I ask you: are you the slayer of Cysthus and Fythsari?"

"No," Dietrich said.

"I ask you: are you one of the three who will stand alongside the slayer of my blood?"

"I can't be, since I am awakened," Dietrich said. "Gretta is only allowed three unawakened companions."

"In truth, I would name it no dishonor if you joined them against me, for even a thousand awakened dragon-men could not balance the scales of this contest."

"I can't do that," Dietrich said. "The rules are clear. But you're right that I have a duty to Gretta and Sabrina, to delay you until they're ready to fight. . . I challenge you to a duel of my own."

"I refuse," the sharytt said. "No grudge do I bear you, and no wish have I to slay you. Swear to me that the slayer of my blood will stand before me soon, and I will be content to wait in your company, for weeks or months if needs be. My life is long. Haste is a stranger to me."

"I swear it," Dietrich said. "Thank you."

They knelt side by side, the sharytt's deep breaths echoing in the darkness. Dietrich wondered whether the sharytt really wanted revenge for Cysthus and Fythsari, or if revenge was simply its duty. Perhaps, if Gretta and Sabrina lost, Dietrich could convince the sharytt to take up the fight against Nicomedeus.

"Do they have a chance against you?" Dietrich asked.

The sharytt's third eye oscillated left and right. "What may any creature say of its own battles? Naught, save to tell that no aspect is certain. Yet think on this: my foes are children of sorcery. Such derive their strength from those you name yoma, who derive their strength from slivers of asarakam, whose strength stems from the lineage of dragons, who in turn derive strength from Asarakam, who is invincible. Thus, the slayer of my blood holds but a half of a sliver of a derivative of a fraction of the power I shall turn against them. If you hold the slayer of my blood and its companions close to heart, I grieve for you."

Yoki flared above them.

"I ask you," the sharytt said. "Is that the slayer of my blood?"

"Yes."

"So they will try to destroy me with my own power. Had they shared their ancestors' memories, they would know that many have attempted such, in days lost to history. I shall remember those battles, and armed with knowledge, destroy the slayer of my blood."

The floor trembled, the mountain groaning as stone cracked overhead.

"I think they're ready," Dietrich said.

The sharytt rose to its feet. "Remove yourself from these halls, child of sorcery," it said. "Asarakam may choose to keep its fire from your flesh, but should the mountain crumble while you are within, even the unnatural regeneration of your kind will not suffice to save you."

Gravel clattered against the floor, and Dietrich ran. When she reached the ridge outside, she slowed. The storm made the ice almost too slick to walk on, much less run. The wind pressed against her, freezing, tearing at her cape, and the thunder, which had been muffled in the halls of the mountain, was deafening, roaring with every flash of lightning. A mighty crack sounded behind her, and she whirled to see the peak of the mountain shatter, flinging boulders through swirling clouds. Rocks hurtled toward her, but she awakened both arms and batted them aside.

Where the peak of the mountain had been stood a figure from Dietrich's memory, from before the Old Organization fell. Back then, the devourer had taken the shape of the goddesses of hate, back to back, winged and haloed. This devourer had the same liquid black flesh and colossal height, but took the form of a single warrior with four arms, four legs, four eyes, four breasts, four wings. Four horns crowned her head. Four swords filled her hands. Innumerable tentacles shot from every joint in her body. Dietrich caught sight of fanged mouths at the tentacle's ends before they burrowed into the mountains by the hundred, shaking the earth. She sensed them moving beneath her underground, squirming through rock, forming a web that extended far beyond the reach of Dietrich's senses. Mountains sundered and collapsed in the distance, the thunder of their ruin drowned out by the roar of wind and rain.

Dietrich decided that, relatively speaking, the danger of slipping on ice was no longer significant. She fled, leaping from ridge to crag to spire. Behind her a bellow ripped across the sky, so deep that Dietrich's bones vibrated. It was the voice of a dragon, she knew. She pushed soaked hair out of her face, scanning for the next perch to leap to, but the mountain ahead shattered, a writhing tentacle bursting from the wreckage, its mouth agape, gold light spilling from its throat. Even at this distance, she felt yoki leaving her body, streaming toward its mouth. She had to move, immediately. She glanced back, but there were more tentacles erupting along the ridge behind her, reaching high.

 _Which means they're not low_ , she thought.

She let go of the spire, and plummeted. For a moment, the rain stopped hitting her as she fell beside it. Then she landed on a shale slope and skidded, coming to a halt on the brink of a cliff as torrents of water rushed over the edge on either side. She was out of range of the mouths. Risking a backward glance, she saw Asarakam.

The dragon was as large as a mountain, black scaled, his teeth as tall as castles, his silver eyes as wide as lakes. He flapped his wings, sending a shattering boom over the mountains, the clouds at his wingtips swirling into funnel clouds. Dietrich saw the shockwave of wind hurling boulders off the mountainside, and, knowing it would hurl her too if she stayed, she stepped over the edge and caught herself on the slick rock of the cliff face, climbing down swiftly. The cliff shook almost too much to touch, every handhold buzzing in her grasp. She heard roars and crashes above, saw a flash of white illuminate the clouds too long and too brightly to be mere lightning. When she was fifty feet from the bottom of the cliff, she let herself fall into a stony basin, and as she ran downhill and the cliff shrank with distance behind her, the battle came into view.

The mountain was cloaked in dragonfire, so brilliant white that she couldn't look at it directly. On the ruined peak, Asarakam bent over the fallen form of the devourer, the dragon's jaws dripping with the black sludge of the devourer's body. But the devourer was not dead. Tentacles bound Asarakam's limbs, thousands of fangs scraping in vain at black scales. The white fires wavered and dimmed. Asarakam roared. It launched itself from the peak, stone crumbling under its claws, and flapped into the clouds. The tentacles groaned, trying to pull him down, but he tore free and disappeared into the storm.

The sludge of the devourer regrouped in the dragon's absence, coating the mountain's top, but before it could regenerate completely, the thrum of the dragon's wings returned, booming deeper than thunder. Lightning flashed, and Dietrich caught sight of a draconic silhouette half-hidden in the clouds above the devourer. Only the silhouette's eyes were clearly visible. All three glowed gold. Dietrich sensed the fire beginning in its belly, filling its chest, surging up its throat.

The sky exploded. The clouds caught fire and burned white. A pillar of flame engulfed the devourer, blasting the mountain apart, hurling Dietrich into the air. The last thing she saw saw was wisps of clouds flashing bright as they burned away, leaving only stars in their wake.

* * *

In scraps of tentacles beneath the mountains, Gretta and Sabrina survived.

 _How much of his yoki did we get?_ Sabrina thought.

 _We aaalmost had him,_ Gretta thought. _We got about half before we lost._

 _Good enough._ Sabrina thought. _I'm going to fight him._

 _Yeah I can see that. Your mind's in some kind of hyper mode with loooads of uppity feelings. You know that thing you call the god within? That's definitely just you. Remember, I can't control his fire, so try to be a liiitle careful, okay? Come back safe._ Gretta sent an image of herself squeezing Sabrina tight. _Oh, and bring lots and looots of yoki._ Gretta imagined herself as a songbird sitting on a clutch of eggs, and Sabrina as her mate, going out to fetch them a worm.

Sabrina imagined her songbird dragging back a dead dragon instead.

Gretta giggled. _But really, be careful. Try to remember your sister's lessons._

 _I will_.

Sabrina emerged from the _heshfithcys_ on a ridge between two peaks. The stitches on her stigmata were gone. Blood splattered onto the stones between her feet, her guts open to the frigid wind. She cried out, falling to her hands and knees. She had nothing to close her stigmata - even the strip of leather she used to tie her hair was gone, leaving her white locks free in the wind, unbraided. The thrum of Asarakam's wings sounded in her ears, and she looked up to see the dragon banking toward her, his eyes locked onto her face, brightening from silver to gold.

 _Awaken_ , said the god within.

Sabrina nodded. At last, it was time. She unleashed yoki, fast. Ice shot through her veins, lighting spasming in her nerves. She gasped, her pulse racing faster and faster, blood hammering through bulging veins. She soared past sixty, seventy, eighty percent. She was hyperventilating, roaring. She felt herself becoming a _god_. Her hands, her arms, even her maroon stained stigmata - every piece of her felt indestructible, strong enough to tear claymore metal in half.

Asarakam swooped toward her, his maw agape, breathing fire. Sabrina was only at ninety percent, but that was plenty for a mere dragon! She shot toward him, arcing over his dragonfire and slamming into the scaled hillside between his eyes, punching him with Wave Motion Awakening. Her arm shattered, exploding with pain, but she barely felt it through the rush of awakening. Left handed, she seized the edge of a scale and pulled with waves of awakening. The scale didn't budge. Asarakam jerked his head, hurling her into the sky, and the mountains shrank into the distance below, wind tearing at her back with the speed of her ascent.

Sabrina knew she should be cursing, but all she could do was laugh. She must've been half mad with yoki to think she could punch Asarakam to death. Even now, the intoxication of awakening made her wild. A dragon was about to burn her in midair, and she had no way to change direction, and her guts were falling out, and she kept cackling because her body was tingling as her flesh hardened, as skin split and horns and limbs and plates extended out of her, and she could see the dragon's mouth opening to burn her, and she knew he would be too late.

Sabrina awakened.

In that moment, she knew that awakening had not been named by humans or warriors. Corruption is what they would have named it, and they wouldn't be wrong. Sabrina's feelings toward humans changed little, but she felt her camaraderie for warriors vanish. Warriors were humans. Unappetizing, dangerous humans who would attack the awakened on sight. It only made sense to kill them first. No, awakening hadn't been named by those creatures, but by the awakened themselves, because waking up was exactly how it felt. Sabrina hadn't even realized what a haze she'd been in, going through life half asleep, with sluggish thoughts, dull senses. Only now was she awake. The stars were brilliant, sharp, and she could see more of them than she ever knew existed. She smelled rain and ashes. Her heart pumped warm inside her. Sweet, cold air rushed against her skin and filled her lungs. She felt _alive_.

White dragonfire flooded toward her, but she darted sideways. She had wings. She had _wings!_ The dragon's tail whooshed toward her, but she zigzagged past it. She didn't fly like a hawk or even a songbird - she flew like a dragonfly, like a hummingbird, her wings beating too fast to see, thrumming. As the dragon banked to attack again, Sabrina hovered and took stock of herself.

She looked mostly like herself, but without scars, pores, or even the tiny hair follicles that covered humans, as if her body had been carved from alabaster. At the ends of her four arms, her hands were long as as claymore hilts, her fingers tipped with claws. Her feet were longer still, and she knew that when she ran, she would do so on the balls of her feet, with her heel acting as a second knee. She looked for Carnage spikes on her soles, but there were none - she'd have to make do with the foot-long claws extending from her toes. As she looked down, her hair spilled past face, black and heavy, the strands as thick as throat veins, more tentacle than hair. She tried to flex them, but they stayed limp, and she accidentally flexed her tail instead, bringing its barbed tip close to her face. She caught it just below the head, but some reflex beyond her control pulled it free - it was stronger than her arms and longer than the rest of her body combined, its length armored in plates of bone, like a spine. She wondered if it could pierce dragonscales. She smiled. Lucky for her, there was a dragon on hand to test it.

She sped forward, and duelled with Asarakam. They chased and darted around the peaks, trading blows. Now that Asarakam expected her speed, his defense rebuffed her nine times out of ten. Whenever Sabrina tried to swoop in to use her tail, a claw or burst of fire forced her back, or sometimes he flapped his wings, and the gale hurled her into the mountains. Sabrina knew he would have been fast enough to follow up and kill her, but his fight with the second phase _heshfithcys_ had drained him, and he could never catch her with his full force. Once, when she dodged behind a ridge to avoid his tail, he blasted the mountain with fire, blowing it apart, filling the sky with thousands of white flaming stones. It looked like the stars were falling.

They fought for an eternity, and by the time the moon rose, Sabrina was exhausted. She collapsed on one of the few peaks not yet bathed in fire. The stone was rough on her skin, and wet and warm as blood - wet from the storm earlier, and warm from the fires roaring up the sides of the peak. The air shimmered with heat, but there was no smoke. Ahead, the dragon's wingspan darkened a third of the sky, the moon visible as a pale circle through the veiny membrane of his wing. If only his wings were as delicate as they looked. She'd driven her tail against them three times to no effect. She'd even managed to rake the barb of her tail along the surface of his eye, but hadn't left a scratch.

The scent of awakening was strong - the smell of her own power. Arrogance, the yoma titan had said, so long ago. Arrogance was the weakness common to all yoki beings, and now that Sabrina was an abyssal, it was her weakness as well. She'd been arrogant to think her tail could harm a dragon; even other dragons couldn't harm a dragon.

She needed a claymore.

But first, she needed to dodge. She pushed herself into a crouch and waited until Asarakam's jet of fire was almost upon her before launching herself sideways. She dodged between Asarakam's claws, but the gale from his wings threw her into a spiral, and the blade of his tail caught her chest, cleaving her heart. She snarled. Purple blood sprayed across the sky. An hour ago, she would have shrugged the wound off, but now the cost of healing it forced her to revert to her human form to conserve energy. Her wings alone she kept.

It made her feel small, becoming human again. The intoxication of awakening lessened, and Sabrina understood why so many awakened beings never used their human forms, and why an awakened as sober as Dietrich used hers exclusively.

 _Dietrich_ , she thought. _She carries a claymore_.

Sabrina raced to the burning crater where the battle had started. She was faster in human form. Her wings had less to carry. In the sea of fire, it was easy to spot the unburnt circle around Dietrich. Sabrina landed beside her, hissing as her feet slammed into sharp gravel. Dietrich lay half buried in rubble, one eye shut and covered in blood, the other unfocused. Bits of her skull mixed with the pebbles around her, trailing golden locks. Her head wound was concealed under mats of purple-soaked hair, but Sabrina could hear her trying to breathe. Sabrina drew the sword from Dietrich's back, and then grabbed her by the jaw, gripping hard to try and focus her.

"Wake up and heal yourself," Sabrina said.

"Cap. . . mi. . . mi," Dietrich said.

Sabrina shook Dietrich by the jaw. The boom of Asarakam's wings told Sabrina that she only had seconds to save Dietrich before dragonfire engulfed them. She stabbed Dietrich's arm, twisting. Dietrich screamed.

"Heal yourself!" Sabrina said, and launched skyward, spinning to face the dragon. She met his eyes. They both knew knew this would be her final charge. Her yoki was all but spent. Sabrina smiled. She had the steel invincible, the speed of abyssal wings, and Wave Motion Awakening. If anything could kill Asarakam, it was her.

Asarakam breathed fire, but he was slow. Roaring, Sabrina shot past the jet and slammed Wave Motion Awakening after Wave Motion Awakening into his neck, charging toward his head, striking as she went, never staying half a second in one place. The thunderclaps of her blows blended into a deafening crescendo, her arms screaming with agony as they broke and healed in cycles. Her yoki failed as she reached his head, so she reabsorbed her wings and unleashed a dozen Wave Motion Awakenings on the base of his skull before the strength left her completely, and she fell to her knees, the sword slipping from her fingers to fall over the dragon's side.

Asarakam bellowed, triumphant. Under Sabrina's knees, the marks of her attacks shone silver in the moonlight - hair thin scratches on the dragon's scales. Asarakam tossed his head, and Sabrina tumbled down his back, rolling past all her failed attacks, and fell nerveless from the side of his tail.

Her body crunched against a burning glacier, her leg twisted backward, her kneecap shattered. She tried to stand, but slipped in the water of the melting glacier, and landed on her hands and knees. The ice was scalding hot. The fire was catching onto her. She was burning. She was _burning_ to death. She vomited blood, choking, shrieking. She couldn't breathe.

So this was despair. Asarakam would sense Gretta underground and finish burning her. Clare and Miria would remain in the light of Raftela. And Sabrina - Sabrina would be ash. The fire reached her face, and her eyes boiled and burst. She was blind.

* * *

The reek of burning awakened stung Dietrich's nose. Sabrina was writhing at her feet, screaming and weeping as she burned. Dietrich clenched her teeth, her vision blurring. The sharytt walked past her. It knelt over Sabrina and slit her guts open with one claw, bending down to feast.

"Wait!" Dietrich said.

The sharytt paused, fixing her with his three eyes.

"She saved me," Dietrich said. "Please, spare her. I owe her a debt."

"I dare not," the sharytt said. "I perceive now how Fythsari was killed. This creature is the first and only dragonslayer. She cannot survive."

The sharytt bit into Sabrina's guts with a squishing sound. Dietrich clenched her fists. She had a duty to Sabrina, but she knew that the moment she raised her hand against the sharytt, the fire would begin to burn her, and she would join Sabrina on the ice. How could Dietrich throw her life away when Miria needed someone to free her? Was it impossible to fulfill both obligations?

Dietrich's voice cracked. "Sharytt. I understand that you can't spare Sabrina. May I ask you to spare someone else instead?"

"Be it within my power," the sharytt said.

"When you conquer the island in the west, you'll find a child of sorcery named Miria. She's the one I want you to spare."

"Excepting she becomes a dragonslayer or a slayer of my blood, I will."

"Promise me, please," Dietrich said.

"I swear it," the sharytt said. "In truth, Miria shall live."

Dietrich's breaths grew shallow, as if her lungs were shrinking. She'd done what she could for Miria, and now, her duty was clear. Trembling, she knelt by Sabrina, laying a hand on Sabrina's charred and thrashing arm, synching auras.

"What is your intent?" the sharytt asked.

"I am sorry," Dietrich said. "We are enemies."

She poured her yoki into Sabrina, who began to heal faster than she burned, her flesh melting back into shape as her stomach closed. The sharytt did not stop Dietrich, but caught her shoulder, his eyes meeting hers.

"I ask that you stay your power," the sharytt said. "Do not choose the course of those who defy Asarakam, for have you not seen that Asarakam is invincible, even to the steel of sorcery? Do not waste yourself against an insurmountable foe. I would have you lead your three hundred children of sorcery at my side. I would not see you dead."

"I am sorry," Dietrich said. "I choose to die with Sabrina. You should transform. You don't stand a chance as an asarakam."

She shoved the last of her power into Sabrina, and collapsed onto the ice.

* * *

Sabrina's eyes healed and burned and healed again. At this rate, Dietrich's yoki would last a few minutes at most. In the moments when she had eyes, Sabrina saw Asarakam rearing, opening his hateful mouth to engulf Sabrina in flames.

Sabrina awakened her wings and shot skyward. She'd had her fill of flames. She'd had her fill of dragons. She was going to kill Asarakam because she _hated_ him, and hopefully his fire would die like Fythsari's had, and Sabrina's burning would end. She glared death at her enemy, who was rising after her, the beating of his wings echoing off the ground. If the Wave Motion Awakening wasn't enough to cut his scales, she'd just add the force of a maximum speed dive to the attack. Sabrina was faster than him, but it took a minute to gain enough distance for her dive. At this height, the air was so cold that ice crystals formed on her skin before burning away, and so thin that her wings had little to grab onto.

She dove.

The mountains were in miniature far below, shining with fire from sea in the east to the plains in the west, and Asarakam was a black silhouette against the light. Sabrina screamed as she dove, out of fury and pain. The air blasted against her face, flapping her cheeks, stabbing into her eyes. Asarakam shot a plume of fire toward her, but she twisted past it and unleashed Wave Motion Awakening on his head. The thunderclap stabbed into her ears, the shock of impact shattering her arms, but it was an insignificant addition to the pain of burning alive. When her eyes healed again, she saw that she was falling alongside shards of dragon scales. There was blood too, but it was all her own purple hue, not the blue of dragon's blood. Asarakam dove toward her, shooting another jet of flame.

She flashed past him, soaring higher. She had enough yoki to heal through the flames for one last dive. She would kill Asarakam now, or not at all, and Asarakam _had_ to die. She reached dive distance with only seconds to spare. She had to think. She had to focus through the pain, to figure out how to break his scales. She imagined her sister Miria in this situation, but there were no tactical factors Miria could have manipulated. All that remained in this battle was the physical equation of the claymore, the scales, and the force of their collision. Anything to increase that force would increase her chances.

Ah, of course.

Sabrina dove, pumping bursts of power into her wings until her blood hummed with yoki, accelerating twice as fast as her last dive, so fast that the wind shrieked in her ears, her skin stretched flat against her skull. Asarakam glittered black in the moonlight, a cloud of frosted breath trailing from his teeth as he opened his mouth to fire. Sabrina awakened her tail and coiled it around her claymore like a sheath. Her eyes boiled again. She hissed as everything went dark, but she could still hear the roar of fire racing toward her, and feel the sting of icy wind as she dodged sideways. With no time to heal her eyes, she attacked by instinct, screaming, unleashing the Wave Motion Strong Draw.

Her ears burst. Her bones shattered from fingertips to ribs, but in the same moment, her eyes healed. Dietrich's claymore was broken, fragments of its metal shimmering in the air. As her bones knit back together, she cast the broken sword aside, and noticed the fire was dying on her hands, leaving them dim in the starlight. She was slick with warmth, soaked in dragon blood. She looked up, and saw a huge cleft in Asarakam's skull, reeking of sulphur, overflowing with blue. His body thrummed as it fell, and then, with a distant rumble, struck and toppled a mountain.

Sabrina gulped icy air into her lungs, gasping, laughing. The father of all yoki, Asarakam, killed by an abyssal in human form. She let yoki run wild inside her and drank his bitter blood off her hands, the power turning her laugh into the cackle of an awakened being.

Eagerly, Sabrina landed at the remnants of the devourer and sank into it, happy to leave her aching body behind, happy to return to the touch of Gretta's mind.

 _Pretty good, huh?_ Sabrina thought.

 _Nooo, that was too scary_ , Gretta thought. _Let's not make enemies with anything that strong again. I thought you were going to diiie. Ooh, awakening's good on you though. You got about twenty percent smarter, and you look cute with wings._

 _Speaking of cute strong things, our child will get all Asarakam's yoki, won't it?_

 _Yeppers,_ Gretta thought. _I really have no idea what kind of creature it will be, since there's no records of children of sorcery using heshfithcys before, but I guess we'll find out really soon. In faaact, we're already moving into phase three. So, do you have any name ideas?_

Before Sabrina could answer, she saw an image of eyelids opening in the void, the eyes within made of white fire.

"My name is Edea."

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

The air was cool and thin in Astraea. Swift winds swept through the windows on either side of the white stone corridor. The windows were as tall as those in the Cathedral of Miria, but no stained glass hindered the view of Maera's rooftops in the distance below, nor the oceans beyond. The breeze stirred Catalina's hair. She wore no helmet. The warriors at the gates of Maera had taken her sword and armor, and not just because she was a foreigner. Even the knights of Astraea that escorted her went unarmed in this place.

Three of the knights wore uniforms of white trimmed with grey, a strip of cloth missing down the center of their chests, revealing the steel laces that held shut their stigmata. The fourth knight led the others, her stigmata sealed with silver, a cape of white and silver streaming from her shoulders.

The hall curved, and windows gave way to peaked doorframes. The silver knight raised a hand to stop Catalina and the others before striding through one of the doorways. Catalina heard conversation from inside, the clear voice of the silver knight at odds with gentle tones Catalina thought she recognized.

". . . says she knows you," the silver knight was saying.

"What does she look like?" the gentle voice said.

"One arm. Could be described as. . . intense looking."

"Oh dear. She doesn't look angry does she?"

"Not angry, no."

"It's alright to send her in then. Thank you as always."

The silver knight emerged into the hall, nodded to Catalina, and led the knights away. Catalina paused with her only hand on the doorframe to steel herself. Techne had only spent a few hours in Catalina's company at Trona, and lost two arms for it. Catalina was surprised Techne hadn't asked the silver knight to escort her out of the city. Before Catalina could think of something to say, Techne appeared in the doorframe, dressed in a white silk robe. Catalina had forgotten how short Techne was, but she remembered the long ears poking through her bob of silver hair, as well as her timid upward look. One little girl clung to Techne's back. Another peeked at Catalina from behind Techne's leg.

"Catalina," Techne said. "I'm glad you're alive. When I heard Sabrina turned against the Organization, I thought she must have killed you first."

"No, I abandoned the Organization as well," Catalina said. "I apologize for coming to find you. I know I am intruding."

"Of course not," Techne said. "Come in and sit down. You've travelled a long way - as far as anyone can travel, in fact. Rabona and Maera are at opposite ends of the world."

Techne led the way into a chamber tall enough to accomodate an asarakam, with windows overlooking the ocean. Black clouds gathered in the distance, but close by, the water glimmered with sunlight.

"Do you prefer water or tea?" Techne asked.

"Water," Catalina said.

The girl climbed down from Techne's back and scurried through a doorway. The second girl followed, skipping. Techne smiled after them, and then sat against one of the stumpy poles in the center of the floor, which Catalina realized was a sort of furniture made for those who would rather sit against a sword than lie in a bed. Catalina knelt with her back against a pillar. Since she didn't know how to approach what she actually wanted to discuss, she decided to ask for news.

"Do you have word from the mainland?" Catalina asked. "I have travelled the eastern continent for half a year, and heard only bits of rumors on the road."

"I've heard some," Techne said. "It looks like Gretta's secured her power with the asarakam. She sent envoys here to make peace with Astraea, but the Five wouldn't listen, since Gretta works with asarakam and awakened."

"You disapprove?" Catalina said.

Techne tugged one of her ears. "I'm not saying we should make peace with yoma, but we don't gain anything by refusing to negotiate. Who knows? Maybe Gretta thought up a way to feed yoma without hurting people. She never seemed like a bad person."

"I think that is overly optimistic," Catalina said.

"I suppose, but even if Gretta's corrupted, it might still be better to make peace. The way it's going now, the whole world is going to war. The humans will get trampled underfoot, just like in Trona."

"And if it comes to that, you and I will have to choose a side - Rabona, Kiphytt, or Astraea," Catalina said.

The children returned. One handed Catalina a cup of water. The other stood leaning against Techne's shoulder, carefully holding a steaming mug that smelled of mint.

"I've already chosen," Techne said, "though my side isn't a country. Would you like to introduce yourselves, girls?"

The girl who gave Catalina water waved, grinning. "I'm Celes of Astraea. I'm six. I'm going to be a knight someday. A gold knight at _least_."

The girl leaning on Techne bowed, a little awkwardly over the mug in her hands. "I'm Vani. I may be knight as well, but I won't use yoki. Mom says it's unhealthy."

"You should," Celes said. "It's not the point to live forever - you're supposed to die for others, just like a mom."

"I'm not going to die," Vani said. "I'll find some power way better than yoki."

Celes tossed her hair, and Catalina sensed that more would be said on the matter later.

"I am Catalina of Rabona," Catalina said.

"Mom told us about you," Celes said. "Not much though. But she said you saw her lose her arms."

"It's alright," Vani said. "We're her arms now."

By way of demonstration, Vani lifted the mug to Techne's lips and tilted it carefully, just enough to allow Techne to sip.

"So you will sit out the war," Catalina said to Techne. "You are content to leave the world's fate to others."

"I am," Techne said. "I'm happy here with my children. I can't imagine a better ending."

"Ending?" Catalina asked.

"Yes," Techne said. "When these two are sixteen, Astraea will make them knights using my body."

Catalina's jaw tightened.

"Don't be angry," Techne said. "In ten years I'll be old for a warrior, and all the mothers are here by choice. Perhaps this is my way of making war. Since I can't fight myself, I'll raise Vani and Celes to be loving and strong, and trust the world to them after I am gone."

Celes hugged Techne from behind, watching Catalina over her mother's ear.

"You _can_ fight yourself," Catalina said. "Take my arm. I only wish I had two to give you."

"I don't want to fight," Techne said. "I don't want to have to remember killing anyone. I still have nightmares about giving you those scars. I'm not like you. I'm not strong enough to kill and not look back."

Catalina stood and paced. "But you would not do anything wrong. You would know who to kill and who not to kill, so there would be no burden on your conscience. You are the one who should fight, not me."

"Is that why your aura's so much more turbulent than it used to be?" Techne asked. "You killed too much and you don't want to fight? Did you come all this way because you thought I was a paragon who could teach you how to be perfect?"

"In short, yes," Catalina said.

"I'm not," Techne said. "I told you in Trona, I just avoid life and death responsibilities. The result is that I never make huge mistakes, because I never give myself the opportunity to."

"I remember," Catalina said. "You wanted to be a good person, but not a great one."

"It's easy to be a good person, but I think someone great is always close to being evil. She has to make sacrifices. She has to live with consequences as enormous as her decisions. Her mistakes are irreparable. Her misunderstandings result in murders. Her bad moods lead to disaster."

Catalina downed her water and set the cup aside. "So you think I should become a good person, and leave the wars to others."

"Not at all," Techne said. "Unlike me, you have what it takes to walk the line between greatness and evil. Keep trying, Catalina. Do your best, and you'll improve over time. Im sure of it."

Catalina sat back down. She had sought out Techne to copy her way of life, but now she knew Techne was right, at least in saying that Techne and Catalina were different. Catalina couldn't see herself settling down as Techne had. She could not leave the world to others. She might linger in Astraea a week, or a month, perhaps even a year, but someday, she would return to war. From behind Techne's ear, Celes met Catalina's eyes, and an understanding passed between them. They were two of the same breed.

 _Let Techne be good_ , _and Sabrina be evil_ Catalina thought. _You and I, Celes, we will try to be great._

* * *

Rubel stood in darkness, waist deep in water, cleansing himself of the black necrotized flesh that oozed from his stigmata. The flesh reeked of death. He grinned to himself. The demonic meat inside him was dead and rotted thousands of years past, having outlived the rest of his corpse by barely a century. If only the power of that flesh had persisted after the meat rotted, his task would have been easy. Then again, if magics outlived their eras, all his efforts would be wasted, his goal impossible.

A voice came from the darkness, soft and low. "The living might wash off the stench of death, but a corpse never can."

Rubel looked up, and saw a silhouette framed against the stars. A moment later, white fire blossomed beside the silhouette, revealing a little girl sitting on a crag. She wore a black dress, her hair as long as Teresa's, the color of a full moon. Her eyes were the same deep emerald Clare's had been, before she'd brought Rubel Teresa's head.

"You're a long way from Kiphytt," Rubel said. "Don't you think. . . It's dangerous for a child to be so far from home?"

"Yet I am closer to home than you," Edea said, "and safer as well."

The white fire descended to the water and caught on the surface, surrounding Rubel in a ring of flame.

"Well. . . I can't think what I've done to offend you," Rubel said.

"We are natural enemies," Edea said. "You know that as well as I."

The fire closed in and washed over Rubel, tickling his skin, unburning. Rubel chuckled.

"I see," Edea said. "Creatures of yoki cannot harm you. So that is how you survived this long."

Rubel's chuckle grew into a laugh, and Edea laughed as well. It had been centuries since Rubel had an enemy, and now, with the whole world at war. . . it was the worst possible time for Edea to appear.

Edea began to disintegrate, her dress and body turning to flame. "The next sorcerer I meet on this continent will never depart," she promised, and then she was gone, leaving Rubel in darkness. Rubel sighed. He'd meant to speak to Gretta to try and prolong the war, but this was more important. He sloshed to the edge of the pool and groped for his hat and glasses. The others would have to hear of this, the sooner the better. It was a shame, but Edea would have to die.

* * *

Well there you have it, my first fanfiction. Tell me whether you liked it or not and why, which characters or scenes you liked or disliked, and what remaining questions you may have about the world or story.

Will there be a sequel? Quite possibly. If so, it'll be about Celes and Vani, and the fates of Miria and Clare, Edea and Rubel. Oh, and humanity, warriors, and the world. Or I might write about Lucy's Inferno first. Well see.

Thanks for reading.


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